A keresés eredménye

An Island Is

An island is a red idea
Within the soul of the sea.
An island is a mad idea
In the crazed mind of the sea.
 
In the island's heart live the dance,
Gold, the drums,
Honey and evil...
And the island's luck, always the same!
 
Adventure, a rocking horse that never gets tired,
That shakes, that swings
Amidst the rage of the seas...
 
(An island is...)
 
An island is a green idea
Within the soul of the sea.
An island is a sweet idea
In the placid mind of the sea.
 
In the island's heart live the wind,
Heat, pain,
Thirst, the snake
And its moonshine treasure.
 
Adventure, a rocking horse that never gets tired,
That shakes, that swings
Amidst the rage of the seas...
 
(An island is...)
 
An island is a yellow idea
Within the soul of the sea.
An island is a single idea
In the obsessive mind of the sea.
 
(An island is an island, is an island...)
 
It is a mad idea...
 
(An island is an island, is an island...)
 
It is a sweet idea...
 
(An island is an island, is an island...)
 
It is a single idea...
 
(An island is an island, is an island...)
 
It is a green idea...
 
(An island is an island, is an island...)
 
It is a mad idea...
 

Why, My God?

Tell me why
Love is always so brief
Oh, my God?
Tell me why,
So very slowly,
It bleeds out and dies on us...
 
River drunk on life,
You who flow away and plunge down...
Oh, my God...!
Why, my God?
 
And this pain, which makes me live miserably
And suffocates my heart and empties me?
Oh, my God!
Why, my God?
 
What will happen with me, my God?
And with us and with love?
We can smile at each other and bend over backwards,
We can die over a memory...
Why, my God?
Why, my God?
 
Tell me why
Love is always so brief
Oh, my God?
Why does it wither away
So very slowly,
If it blossomed so suddenly?
 
It doesn't leave us anything at all: just a shadow
That darkens all of our hours...
Oh, my God!
Why, my God?
 
And I don't even dare to wait anymore,
So I can live another love...
Oh, my God!
Why, my God?
 
What will happen with me, my God?
And with us and with love?
We can smile at each other and bend over backwards,
We can die over a memory...
Why, my God?
Why, my God...?
 

Last Postcard

My friends have seen him
As he travelled all alone
And, alone, he crossed Europe...
 
Washing himself in museum lavatories,
Looking at himself in mirrors...
In the cracked mirrors
Of so many museums in Europe!
 
[Chorus:]
And not very often,
From time to time,
I get a postcard
From Hamburg, Berlin, Vienna...
From Hamburg, Berlin, Vienna...
 
Aaah...
 
My friends have seen him
As he travelled all alone
And walked around, so pale...
 
Down the boulevards in Winter,
Through train stations,
Down desolate streets
Of so many corners in Europe!
 
[Chorus:]
And not very often,
From time to time,
I get a postcard
From Hamburg, Berlin, Vienna...
From Hamburg, Berlin, Vienna...
 
My friends have seen him,
As he travelled all alone
And walked around, astonished...
 
Washing himself in museum lavatories,
Looking at himself in mirrors...
He could walk around,
Die all over the rivers
From Hamburg, Berlin, Vienna...
From Hamburg, Berlin, Vienna...
 

Petenera of the Sea

I'd like to know
One day you'll have to explain it to me
Because the sea is always
Present in you
 
You'll have to explain it to me
Without too many words
But in one go
Because day by day
I like to sail more and more
 
Sailor burning with desire
For the water of your walk
Because the sea is always
Present in yout
 
You'll have to teach me
The width of paths
From the edge into the sea
Because day by day
I like to sail more and more
 

When Everyone Lives On Love

When everyone lives on love
There won't be poverty and misery anymore,
Soldiers shall all become troubadours
But it's likely that we won't live to see it happen.
 
From the long road of life
Of dreams, of having fought,
Having loved and having lost
All we have left is a embittered demeanour.
 
When everyone lives on love
There won't be poverty and misery anymore,
Soldiers shall all become troubadours
But it's likely that we won't live to see it happen.
 
History has always been like this
And, in order to allow a period of love to come,
It's necessary for death to play its game.
What's the point, then, of having so much knowledge?
 
When everyone lives on love
There won't be poverty and misery anymore,
Soldiers shall all become troubadours
But it's likely that we won't live to see it happen.
 
Life is a road covered in blood
But we had to be there and walk it
Ploughing the old field
Let's prepare the earth for tomorrow.
 
When everyone lives on love
There won't be poverty and misery anymore,
Soldiers shall all become troubadours
But it's likely that we won't live to see it happen.