A keresés eredménye oldal 4

The Storming of Notre-Dame

Clopin and the Undocumented:
Asylum!x8
 
Frollo:
Royal Guard, I insist
Let us through the gate
In the name of decency
And of conscience
I concede on you the right
To not fulfill the right
To asylum!
 
Phoebus and the Guards:
Away with the invaders!
Away with the occupation!
Out, out!
 
Clopin and the Undocumented:
We're the illegal ones. The undocumented ones.
Women and men. Homeless.
Oh, Notre-Dame, we come to ask for
Asylum! Asylum!
 
Clopin:
Esmeralda, I am dying... I believe this is goodbye.
In the name of your people, hear my request.
You have grown up here, and this is your country.
Stand up and shout it out, do it for me.
 
Esmeralda and the Undocumented:
We're the illegal ones. The undocumented ones.
Women and men. Homeless.
We're the illegal ones. The undocumented ones.
Women and men. Homeless.
We're the illegal ones. The undocumented ones.
Women and men. Homeless.
We're the illegal ones. The undocumented ones.
Women and men. Homeless.
Oh, Notre-Dame, we come to ask for
Asylum! Asylum!
 
Phoebus and the Guards:
Away with the invaders!
Away with the occupation!
Away with the invaders!
Away with the occupation!
Away with the invaders!
Away with the occupation!
Out! Out!
 
Gringoire:
There are more than a thousand, it seems,
And they are headed here
Very soon they will be
Ten thousand, and then a hundred thousand
The world is going to change
The races will mix
Millions are going to be
The ones asking for
Asylum! Asylum!
 

Where Is Esmeralda?

Frollo:
Gringoire, your wife-- where is she?
She cannot be seen dancing by Notre-Dame
 
Gringoire:
To be honest, I don't know
You're a priest, I'm a poet
When it comes to women,
We don't have the same religion or poetry
 
Frollo:
Where is
Your beautiful Esmeralda?
Paris looks
Very sad without her
 
Gringoire:
She locked herself away
In a tower
Far from the fright
Of those she bewitched
 
Frollo:
What do you mean, poet?
That reply does not do
Enough of pirouettes
Have you seen her, yes or no?
 
Clopin:
Where is my beautiful Esmeralda?
Now my kingdom is left without a queen
 
Gringoire:
She is
A swallow
It is as if
Her wings were broken
You shall find her
 
In 'La Sante' Prison
If you do not go save her
She could die,
Since they want to hang her
 
Clopin:
Don't tell me any more
 
All three:
Where is
Our Esmeralda
Paris looks
Very sad without her
She is a swallow
It is as if
Her wings were broken
 

Deported

Phoebus:
In the name of the King
The sentence of the Court
of Paris, I've in my hand
Esmeralda
You are accused of witchcraft, and shall be hanged
As for the ones without documents, you shall be...
 
Driven away
Exiled
Deported
Driven away
Exiled
Deported
 
Driven away
Exiled
Deported!
 
Driven away
Exiled
Deported
 

Cathedrals

Listen to my story that starts here
And finds its origin in Paris
Beginning in 1482
and most likely to confuse the heart
A city replete with art and symphony
Of image, music and poetry
And watch how the time of yore
is revived by what art gives us
 
Mankind at the times of the cathedrals
The world keeps turning
But no man can ignore this
For centuries man has hoped to reach the moon
To exist for all times
In a work of glass and stone.
 
So day after day and brick by brick
Work was done for years on end.
With love, glass and stone and wood
A masterpiece was built.
Troubadours sing of want
They as well know what love is
And love ardent, intense and gentle
Awaiting us somewhere
 
Mankind at the times of the cathedrals
The world keeps turning
But no man can ignore this
For centuries man has hoped to reach the moon
To exist for all times
In a work of glass and stone.
 
The times of the cathedrals get lost
In the name of a God
With the weapons and violence
The barbarians, fighters and vandals appear
The world goes down.
As was predicted in days of yore.
As was predicted in days of yore.
 
Please alert me when spelling, print or other inconsistencies are spotted. When spotting them myself I tend to lapse into a *#@%* mood!

Drink

Judge Frollo:
One-eyed, lame, rapist!
You, dishonorable bell ringer!
Pray for that sinner
And have mercy of him, Lord!
 
Quasimodo:
Mercy for poor Quasimodo
That carries on his back
Misfortunes of the entire world
And asks only some drops of water
Mercy for your sacristan
Water for Quasimodo to drink
Give me something to drink
Drink
Drink
Give me something to drink
Drink
 

Moon

Moon
Shining high on this street
Look
The cruel agony of love
You, watching over the night, are you listening
Here, to this earth singing a song?
 
A boy cries bitterly
To one girl alone
Does That unhappy boy offer his whole life
 
Moon
Growing dim, are you listening
To his cry now spreading and moving to tears?
 
Quasimodo’s moaning loud
It spans over the whole world
His sad voice reaches high, to the edge of the sky
 
Please
Lay a touch of consolation on his soul now
 
Moon
Watching over the pen of the poet with your light
Behold
The agony of love
Love
This agony
 

Bohémienne

My mother used to talk about it
The place she longed for: Spain
She talked about the Andalusian mountains and their people
That place was like a birth land, to her
 
I lost my parents and to me
Paris is my birthplace, but
When I think back of the sea, I’m always over there
In a flight of fancy, I’m in Andalusia
 
Bohémienne
I cannot know my birth land
Bohémienne
I was raised on the street
Bohémienne, bohémienne
You can never know the morrow
Bohémienne, bohémienne
I cannot resist my fate
 
Running around barefoot
In my childhood Provence
The journey of gypsies is endless
My life is a constant rove
I’m walking every street on Earth
Till the day I’ll reach the edge of the world
Till that day
 
That land, Andalusia
That river flows my body
My Andalusia
When will I get to see you?
 
Bohémienne
I cannot know my birth land
Bohémienne
I was raised on the street
Bohémienne, bohémienne
You can never know the morrow
Bohémienne, bohémienne
I cannot resist my fate
I cannot resist my fate
 

Moon

Moon
Shining high on this street
Look
The cruel agony of love
You, watching over the night, are you listening
Here, to this earth singing a song?
 
A boy cries bitterly
To one girl alone
Does That unhappy boy offer his whole life
 
Moon
Growing dim, are you listening
To his cry now spreading and moving to tears?
 
Quasimodo’s moaning loud
Are you listening now to his sad song?
You, shining on this street
Moon
 
Please
Lay a touch of consolation on his soul now
 
Moon
Watching over the pen of the poet with your light
Behold
The agony of love
Love
Love
 

The age of the cathedrals

The beautiful city of Paris
Almighty God’s epoch
In the year 1482
A story of desire and love
We, the unsigned artists, through every work
Will let this story be heard by you, of the future
 
The age of the cathedrals came
The world is now greeting a new millennium
Men want to reach to the edge of the sky
To write their history on glass and stone
 
Stone piled on stones and
Yet another day, one hundred years flow
With love, towers raised
They kept but reaching higher and higher
Also poets sang several love songs
Songs promising to mankind better days
 
The age of the cathedrals came
The world is now greeting a new millennium
Men want to reach to the edge of the sky
To write their history on glass and stone
 
The age of the cathedrals came
The world is now greeting a new millennium
Men want to reach to the edge of the sky
To write their history on glass and stone
 
The age of the cathedrals crumbles
A crowd of heathens is crammed at the city gates
Let them within the ramparts
The end of this world is already destined by fate
It will be in the year 2000