EbonyLake — Paroles et traduction des paroles de la chanson The Music and Woe Between Horse Thieves
La page contient les paroles et la traduction française de la chanson « The Music and Woe Between Horse Thieves » de EbonyLake.
Paroles
Still and almost as if I could not see it, at the foot of the ocean borne along
by the driftwood there it lay and as the marble darkened the colossal and
corpse pile, arcane within its being, shuddered its wings.
As I stared and my eyes engaged it, there were voices without speech,
'twas the same day the fearful banished it from the old town, the stairs and
the moors.
Then every wild and unseen flower, begged in song beneath the foulest twist of stench.
Still it lay enveloped in the driftwood, the moon dripping on it.
In a bid to avoid the swallow of a day by moon, those with speech bellowed
upwards in defiance.
Then were the days when the mornings were grey and every greying,
long and ever longing.
Deep within something so surreal whilst alone on the isolated savage coastline,
I observe tendencies of deep oppression in offerings that coldly washed upon
there.
And for a brief moment the woe doth seize the gnawing.
On a steeple a lured albatross did settle, looking at the creations and
laughing.
Whilst the gallant ready’d for Europe deep with warring.
Frame this moment, paint upon it and cherish it fully, for when the clouds turn
to red, then the water we feed from will crush our lungs… behold the creation;
Behold the music and woe between horse thieves.
Never did the sparrows gather in threatening flocks, and never before did they
dine uon the village.
«It dwells unseen in the air, something immense, unfinished» bellows the eldest
of the old of gold for his theories.
I often watch my love whilst I hide amongst the caves and without fail she
would appear followed by the wooed moths, head fixed down looking for things.
I remember day when the moths tuned against her, shredding her flowing her.
But aside from the hustle and the bustle of the crowd, it creeps with strength
and with vigour, it goes unseen and without a sound.
Whilst alone on the savage coastline, I observe death before my sore feet.
Cometh the fiour, come forth the day where the whales' blood stain the whole
bay.
Bring forth the years.
And with myself, time has become red and discordant, of days on the lake with a renowned English poet, the days I would talk and have him believe that removing
his eyes would help him, to see that if given the time then his eyes would
surely deceive him.
Slowly.
It mumbles in the ears of the demented, promises of summer and garden frolics,
of wine by the river bank and of April love in hallucinogenic red sky teachings,
but again misery palls a blanket of menacing clouds over the scene leaving no refuge for the fleeing shadows,
leaving depression dripping freely and leaving breathless lunatics face down on the hillsides.
Softly.
«The noises it leaves upon the stairs of hundred, ssh, I can hear the hooves in the storm, as men return from the ashes of Herjned with gifts of amethyst.
Sometimes after the rain and between the snow I would catch a glimpse of it on
the cliff, young is it and dead we are.»
A lifetime later, in the base of an oak tree plans were afoot; beards of long
face, of wise — books and scripts of it — they told me of fire, fire from my fingertips, before lighting a pipe and trudging out into the blizzards.
And then never…
Forever.
In this room the curtains move unaided and a dog now announces our coming.
Behold the recreation, behold the music and woe between horse thieves.
Traduction des paroles
Encore et presque comme si Je ne pouvais pas le voir, au pied de l'océan porté le long
par le bois flotté là il était et comme le marbre obscurci le colossal et
tas de cadavres, arcane dans son être, frissonnait ses ailes.
Alors que je fixais et que mes yeux l'engageaient, il y avait des voix sans parole,
c'était le même jour que les craintifs l'ont banni de la vieille ville, des escaliers et
les maures.
Puis chaque fleur sauvage et invisible, suppliait en chanson sous la torsion la plus folle de la puanteur.
Pourtant, il était enveloppé dans le bois flotté, la Lune coulant dessus.
Dans le but d'éviter l'hirondelle d'un jour par la Lune, ceux qui ont la parole beuglé
vers le haut en défiance.
Puis étaient les jours où les matins étaient gris et chaque gris,
long et toujours désir.
Au fond de quelque chose de si surréaliste tout seul sur la côte sauvage isolée,
J'observe des tendances d'oppression profonde dans les offrandes qui se sont froidement lavées
y.
Et pendant un bref moment, le malheur saisit le rongement.
Sur un clocher, un albatros attiré s'installa, regardant les créations et
rire.
Alors que le galant prêt pour l'Europe profonde avec la guerre.
Encadrez ce moment, peignez-le et chérissez-le pleinement, car quand les nuages tournent
au rouge, alors l'eau dont nous nous nourrissons écrasera nos poumons ... voici la création;
Voici la musique et le malheur entre les Voleurs de chevaux.
Jamais les moineaux ne se sont rassemblés en troupeaux menaçants, et jamais auparavant
dîner UON le village.
"Il demeure invisible dans l'air, quelque chose d'immense, inachevé" soufflet l'aîné
de la vieille de l'or pour ses théories.
Je regarde souvent mon amour pendant que je me cache parmi les grottes et sans faute elle
apparaîtrait suivi par les papillons courtisés, la tête fixée vers le bas à la recherche de choses.
Je me souviens du jour où les papillons de nuit s'accordaient contre elle, la déchiquetant.
Mais en dehors de l'agitation et de l'agitation de la foule, il se glisse avec force
et avec vigueur, il passe inaperçu et sans bruit.
Tout seul sur la côte sauvage, j'observe la mort devant mes pieds endoloris.