Bandish Projekt — Paroles et traduction des paroles de la chanson Alchemy

La page contient les paroles et la traduction française de la chanson « Alchemy » de Bandish Projekt.


Down with dog position, locust,
cobra, standing tree.
I am the motherland expanding,
pregnancy unplanned in the 21st
More than our people, our culture,
our country, I’m ALCHEMY.
Raag main taal, rhythm and
Conceived when Shiva breathe the
kiss which died on the lips of his
bride Parvati.
Desi, Gora, Kala I’m every grain of
rice in your Basmati, every spice in
your Garam Masala.
I’m the turmeric stain on your
Gandmother’s hands.
I’m eena meena dika die dama
nika retika flames on your penial
I’m the mala beads slipping
through her fingers like display
seed of sands through an hour
I’m the jigsaw made from the
shattered fragments of the past,
pieced together in a way that
works for us.
A billion strong and uprising and
it’s impossible to ignore us.
The interwoven of
Bengali, Gujarati, Kannada,
Marathi, Hindi, Kashmiri,
Malayalam, Nepali, Punjabi,
Sindhi, Telugu, Tamil or Urdu
Ginger, Chilly and Garlic.
Brahmin, Kshatriya, Dalit… Touch
me for I’m no longer untouchable.
Capable, practically inescapable.
No longer unaccountable.
I’m an accountant, I programme
your IT.
I’m the Chai, Latte, Ice Tea.
That the Chai Wala stares at
He sighs. On the rise of the
middle class whispering their
upwardly mobile mantra.
Thank God almighty, I am free at
I sing «Tumhi ho mata Hindustan»
as I smoke beedis, chew paan and
watch Bollywood DVDS starring
Akshay Kumar and Shahrukh
Remixing Prayanaam by
whispering my mantra «I am a
disco dancer» under my breathe. Profound, primitive and
superstitious. Spread of Canada to
Australia, Trinidad to Mauritius…
I will always be INDIA.
The impoverished child that bangs
the window of your ambassador
The old man who instead of
clapping his hands simply says
I am Saraswati whose veena was
later remixed into the shape of a
sitar just like «Om mane padme
hum «of the tabla drum became
the «ta teri kit… tera te…» to turn
tables and a mixer.
I am the rickshawala.
I have the white Tiger, a survivor
rising up in the drive to progress.
I am the distressed heart of Delhi,
Calcutta’s cloaked streets,
Bombay’s blocked arteries and an
accumulation of stress… yessss!
In the land of Ustad Ali Akbar
Khan and Kaun Banega Crorepati,
Krishnamurthy, Vivekananda,
Tagore and Arundhati, and pot
elephant headed superhero,
Om Shanti…
I am the monk’s saffron rope. I am
the scent of the cinnamon,
cardamom, clove. I am the air
thick with the rain and the funk of
the monsoon.
I am the silver moon that Shiva
wears for hair clip.
I am the unsanctioned love
marriage between Bharatnatyam
and backflip.
Converse trainers under Kurta
pajama and salwaar kameez.
I am the thunder of the storms on
the horizon weeping the solidified
tears of Rudraksha beads.

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