the traitor x leonard cohen (x fede té)
dibujo: un tal lorenado
Ah the Rose of High Romance it opened wide
A sun tanned woman yearned me through the summer
and the judges watched us from the other side
I told my mother "Mother I must leave you
preserve my room but do not shed a tear
Should rumour of a shabby ending reach you
it was half my fault and half the atmosphere"
But the Rose I sickened with a scarlet fever
and the Swan I tempted with a sense of shame
She said at last I was her finest lover
and if she withered I would be to blame
The judges said you missed it by a fraction
rise up and brace your troops for the attack
Ah the dreamers ride against the men of action
Oh see the men of action falling back
But I lingered on her thighs a fatal moment
I kissed her lips as though I thirsted still
My falsity had stung me like a hornet
The poison sank and it paralysed my will
I could not move to warn all the younger soldiers
that they had been deserted from above
So on battlefields from here to Barcelona
I'm listed with the enemies of love
And long ago she said "I must be leaving,
Ah but keep my body here to lie upon
You can move it up and down and when I'm sleeping
Run some wire through that Rose and wind the Swan"
So daily I renew my idle duty
I touch her here and there -- I know my place
I kiss her open mouth and I praise her beauty
and people call me traitor to my face
8 comentarios:
se me complica jodido con este parcial que no quiero ni puedo aprender...
tendía que al menos haber puesto una traducción me muero de ganas de hacerlo y de sueño, y gana el segundo.
disfruten de éste, que lo llamé a último momento para que me cubra y se prendió, parece bueno el tipo e
Pulgar arriba: Leonard Cohen
Pulgar abajo: Fede Té
juajajajaja!
sos terrible matiú.
el dia que matiu apruebe un faltazo...
nose me ocurre nada loco pero que dia!
¡Ey! ¡Pero qué dicen! Si me encanta Leonard Cohen y también lo que escribe Fede Té...!
si esto fuera rebelion enla granja, fija que matiu sería uno de los perros: pero escritor; y bueno
Si esto fuera Rebelión en la granja, yo quisiera ser George Orwell. Fijate que los dos somos británicos y usamos bigote, por ejemplo.
si esto fuera una rebelión en una granja, habria vegetales por todos lados y sol tendría los ojos ASÍ
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