Текст песни Tangerine Dream - London

Lyrics of William Blake from the cycle Songs of Experience - Songs of Knowledge

Part 1. London
I wander thro 'each charter'd street,
Near where the charter'd Thames does flow,
And mark in every face I meet
Marks of weakness, marks of woe.
 In every cry of every man,
 In every Infant's cry of fear,
 In every voice, in every ban,
 The mind-forg'd manacles I hear.
How the chimney-sweeper's cry
Every black'ning church appals;
And the hapless soldiers sigh
Runs in blood down palace walls.
 But most thro 'midnight streets I hear
 How the youthful harlot's curse
 Blasts the new-born infant's tear,
 And blights with plagues the marriage hearse.

I wander through the free streets
The river has long been free.
On all the faces I find
Seal of impotence and longing.
 Male scolding, and female moan,
 And the cry of scared children
 In my ears sound like a jingle
 The law of the created chains.
Here the chimney sweeps of young screams
Scare the gloomy cathedral
And the blood of a miserable soldier
Flowing to the royal court.
 And from curses and threats
 Girls in the back streets of the gloomy
 Drops of children's tears turn black
 And the hearse of the bride and groom.
Translation by S. Ya. Marshak

Wandering the dusty streets of the capital
Where the Thames flow stream,
I see faces - the stigma is burnt on them,
Seal of poverty, sadness stigma.
 In the prayer of each, each of us,
 In babies crying, not closing their eyes in fear,
 In all desperate wailing to heaven
 Ringing chains of spirituality, not alien to us.
See how the chimney sweeps scream
Throw the basics and sophists into the chaos of churches,
And like a miserable soldier, a death rattle
At the walls of the palace runs a scarlet river.
 And how, God, I am scared in the night,
 When a girl blasphemes in a brothel, she screams ...
 Then an innocent tear blackens and rots,
 And the plague will soon die a hypocritical marriage.
Translation by L. Beszdnoy

From AMERICA. A PROPHECY
Rise and look out; his chains are loose, his dungeon doors are
open;
And let his wife and children return from the opressor's
scourge.
They look behind at every step and believe it is a dream,
Singing: "The Sun has left his blackness, and has found a fresher
morning
And the fair Moon rejoices in the clear and cloudless night;
For Empire is no more, and now the Lion and Wolf shall
cease.

Open to life, where there is no Gate, no Chains,
Children and wives so that the scavenger does not threaten the scourge.
Let them not be believed. Faith will come later: not in a dream
All this. A song of delight will strike: "Out of the darkness
The sun has risen, the moon shines on a blissful night
"The power has come out - now there will be neither Wolf nor Leo!"
Translation by V. L. Toporov
______________________________
Part 2. The Fly
Little fly
Thy summer's play
My thoughtless hand
Has brush'd away.
 Am not I
 A fly like thee?
 Or art not thou
 A man like me?
For I dance,
And drink, and sing,
Till some blind hand
Shall brush my wing.
 If thought is life
 And strength and breath,
 And the want
 Of thought is death;
Then am I
A happy fly,
If i live
Or if I die.

Agile flyer
Your summer ball
Hand careless
I interrupted instantly.
 Oh the moth!
 You are akin to me.
 After all, numbered
 Hours and days.
Here i am playing
Frozen, sleeping -
But won't they interrupt
And my life?
 Let life be a thought
 And heat and light
 And death is darkness
 Where there is no thought
Here and there
I am only for a period.
And I'm happy -
I'm a moth.
 Translation by T. Stamova (1996)

Baby midge
You are so fragile!
Ruined you
My hand.
 Why not midge
 I am human?
 After all, not much
 Mine is longer than a century.
I sing, I dance
I'm spinning bye
Won't ruin me
Fate's hand.
 But if the mind
 For us it's like light
 And where there is no thought -
 There is no life there
I will live
Or wait for death
Happy midge
Want to fly.
 Translation by A. Kudryavitsky (1994)