Nov. 22nd, 2009

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Poetic translation from Russian of Fighter Jet by Boris Grebenshchikov.

Перевод на английкий песни БГ "Истребитель".


Oh tell me my friend why this life is full or harm,
And why year after year it just drags on in despair,
And carnations from hell are just poisoning the air,
And Saint Andrew has got to pack a Luger for sidearm.

'Cause while the men of peace work the land in sweat and tears,
While I'm going insane with confusion and regret,
Slick black shade up in the sky sows misery and fears,
It marauds among the clouds, this diamond-studded fighter jet.

Who's the pilot inside and who is the weaponeer,
Who draws fiendish plans for this miserable task?
You can say all you want but it's maddeningly clear,
It is us, you and me, faces hidden by a mask.

My forgiveness and love could be mighty as this thunder,
I'd forget all this grief that is tearing me apart,
But this void in my soul would forever push me under,
And the shade of black wings heavy lies across my heart.

Oh you, proud soul, you can take this war and shove it,
Here is my last clip, you get bolder every day,
This is my dying spot and the gloomy sky above it
Might just clear up a bit once I blow you away.

22.11.2009

Listen to the original (MP3)
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Опять чернобелое
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На этот раз мучаем Nikon Coolpix L100. Без вспышки.

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