Gérard Manset - Camion bâché versuri traducere în engleză
Covered truck
Truck in the night
Covered truck
Like a released balloon
Illusions, hopes
And blood stained
Straps tied-down
No more desire
In this loathed world
Nothing to say
Drive in the darkness
Hit by dreams
On the waysides
Of desperation
Truck in the darkness
Drives away this evening
And will not come back
In the back seat
Of black leatherette
A child breathes
A fair-eyed girl
With frail limbs
Sleeps in a cloth
Like an angel feather
In a flannel blanket
Fallen from heavens
And in the rhythm of axles
The awful din
Of the iron truck
*
Truck in the night
What do you know about him
About what he leaves once again
Sad settings
The rest has been crushed
When the world is sick
What is left to him
Is the shape that sleeps
In a blanket
On the rugged seat
She's the only figure
The only landscape
Standing like a mirage
The face of the angel
That sleeps in her flannel blanket
Fallen from heavens
And in the rhythm of axles
The awful din
Of the iron truck
Truck...
All that is left to him
When the world is sick
Is the shape that sleeps
Truck in the night
Armored truck
For so many years
So many low blows
Without lights and masts
Lanterns torn
Truck rolls away
From a loathed world
History will tell
What should be remembered
On an acacia tree trunk
Tires howling
Windows bursting
Crushed truck
And in his notebook
Three more lines
Three crossed-off words
The three words of a drowned man
Whose body is recovered
During a moonless night
One hand through
The brown curls
On the angel's forehead
In her flannel blanket
Fallen from heavens
And in the rhythm of axles
The awful din
Of the iron truck
Truck in the night
Smashed truck
Iridescent windows
Strewing the ground
In a sunken lane
Crushing the hand
From which the soul escapes
Still breathing
As if bewitched
Stroking the body
And the grey nape
Of the crushed adult neck
Where the bones are smashed
In the covered truck
Front burst open
Through which the wind edges
And dries up
The child's forehead
Moistened with tears
In the covered truck
Front burst open
Through which wind edges
And dries up
The child's forehead
Moistened with tears
Sanctified truck
Picked up off the ground
Straight towards the sky
The rest erased
The tree opened
In the middle
Passenger compartment open
On the green carpet
Of painless moss
The fair-haired angel
Looks at her father
Who keeps driving
Truck in the night
Truck
Truck
Truck
Truck
Truck
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01.02.2025
Doctor Faust
Oh, Doctor Faust
Behind you, do you see all these years you've spent wasting your life?
It's time for you to let yourself live life
Oh, Doctor Faust
Diving like this into dead languages, that's not life
If you spend time with them, living languages will revive you
Oh, Doctor Faust
Science is a well where you drown yourself, if you want my opinion
Descend into the well of pleasure because that's life
Oh, Doctor Faust
Leave your Talmudic and astrologic studies behind
Instead, prepare a thesis on my anatomy
Oh, Doctor Faust
Throw your books away, forget Latin, smile at live
In my arms, you'll get to know love and life
Oh, Doctor Faust
I like your physique, leave physics behind, discover life
Looking together, in physical love, the meaning of life
Oh, Doctor Faust
Oh, Doctor Faust
I like your physique, leave physics behind, discover life
Looking together, in physical love, the meaning of life
01.02.2025
On board of the Aspasia
You traveled in pursuit of your destiny
To white but mournful Switzerland
Always in the deck in a chez-lung downstairs
by the familiar and saddest cause
Always restlessly your folks have been prowling around
But you, staring at the wings, were indifferent
You laughed bitterly at what they said because you felt
That you were travelling to the land of death
One night when we were passing through Stroboli
You said to some laughing man in a joking tone:
'How my sick body looks as it burns,
to the flaming top of the volcano!'
Then I saw you in Marcilia as you were lost
in the noise without turning back
And I who loved only the wet expanse,
I say I could love thee
01.02.2025
Gramophonomaniac
In room of miss Janka
winders and curtains tremble
Like in a fury there a gramophone plays
Because miss Janka is a gramophone maniac
From morning to morning constantly plays.
Syrena’s records are still brought by miss Janka,
She puts all of her money in it and continues to sing
And I play on gramophone
trali tralalla la, trali
tralalla la
In winter at home, in the summer on the balcony
trali tralalla la, gramophone plays
And nothing worries me,
I have Syrena’s records
When something annoys me - I play on the gramophone
Because when I play on the gramophone
then in gramophone I have my all concerns
Neighbours of miss Janka, their wives and lovers declared, not being able to sleep at night:
We have enough of miss Janka,
that gramophone maniac,
the police needs to know about it
But when the officer came, miss Janka says
What to do, man, understand I’m afraid to sleep alone
And when I play on the gramophone
trali tralalla la, trali
tralalla la
In winter at home, in the summer on the balcony
trali tralalla la, gramophone plays
And nothing worries me,
I have Syrena’s records
When something annoys me then I play on the gramophone
Because when I play on the gramophone
then in gramophone I have all of my concerns
As soon as the strict officer heard it himself and wanted to give advice to the poor maiden
He says to miss Janka, that gramophone maniac
„A pity, I will sleep here”
And since then every night from miss Janka’s room
The bas of officer makes the curtains tremble
And I play on gramophone
trali tralalla la, trali
tralalla la
In winter at home, in the summer on the balcony
trali tralalla la, gramophone plays
And nothing worries me,
I have Syrena’s records
When something annoys me - I play on the gramophone
Because when I play on the gramophone
then in gramophone I have my all concerns
singable
01.02.2025
At the End of the Park
When sunset
makes the sky grow pale,
from the window,
I look around me.
At the end of the park, I see you
searching for me
like one evening
a year ago.
I watch you from afar and
in your hand,
there's
hidden more than one caress.
At the end of the park, I see you
running towards me,
of course,
I know it.
It's only an impression,
a trick of my heart
that makes me see
all this.
Tenderness
is something that
grows deep
in the soul.
If I remember
and if only
I think about you:
At the end of the park, I see you
searching for me
like one evening
a year ago.
I watch you from afar and
in your hand,
there's
hidden more than one caress.
At the end of the park, I see you
running towards me
and this time,
I know it.
You're no longer an impression,
a trick of my heart,
I've found
you again.
(At the end of the park, I see you
searching for me
like one evening
a year ago.)
At the end of the park, I see you
searching for me
like one evening
a year ago.
At the end of the park, I see you
searching for me...