Archives for posts with tag: Rufus Wainwright


All dessen müd, nach Rast im Tod ich schrei.
Ich seh es doch: Verdienst muß betteln gehn,
Und reinste Treu am Pranger steht dabei,
Und kleine Nullen sich im Aufwind blähn,
Und Talmi-Ehre hebt man auf den Thron,
Und Tugend wird zur Hure frech gemacht,
Und wahre Redlichkeit bedeckt mit Hohn,
Und Kraft durch lahme Herrschaft umgebracht,
Und Kunst das Maul gestopft vom Apparat,
Und Dummheit im Talar Erfahrung checkt,
Und schlichte Wahrheit nennt man Einfalt glatt,
Und Gutes Schlechtesten die Stiefel leckt.
All dessen müd, möcht ich gestorben sein,
Blieb nicht mein Liebster, wenn ich sterb, allein.


[przeł. Christa Schuenke,
oryginał i przekład Barańczaka tu]


When most I wink, then do mine eyes best see,
For all the day they view things unrespected;
But when I sleep, in dreams they look on thee,
And darkly bright are bright in dark directed.
Then thou, whose shadow shadows doth make bright,
How would thy shadow’s form form happy show
To the clear day with thy much clearer light,
When to unseeing eyes thy shade shines so!
How would, I say, mine eyes be blessed made
By looking on thee in the living day,
When in dead night thy fair imperfect shade
Through heavy sleep on sightless eyes doth stay!

All days are nights to see till I see thee,
And nights bright days when dreams do show thee me.


When, in disgrace with fortune and men’s eyes,
I all alone beweep my outcast state
And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries
And look upon myself and curse my fate,
Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,
Featured like him, like him with friends possess’d,
Desiring this man’s art and that man’s scope,
With what I most enjoy contented least;
Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising,
Haply I think on thee, and then my state,
Like to the lark at break of day arising
From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven’s gate;

For thy sweet love remember’d such wealth brings
That then I scorn to change my state with kings.

A woman’s face with Nature’s own hand painted
Hast thou, the master-mistress of my passion;
A woman’s gentle heart, but not acquainted
With shifting change, as is false women’s fashion;
An eye more bright than theirs, less false in rolling,
Gilding the object whereupon it gazeth;
A man in hue, all ‚hues’ in his controlling,
Which steals men’s eyes and women’s souls amazeth.
And for a woman wert thou first created;
Till Nature, as she wrought thee, fell a-doting,
And by addition me of thee defeated,
By adding one thing to my purpose nothing.

But since she prick’d thee out for women’s pleasure,
Mine be thy love and thy love’s use their treasure.

Piosenka, nietypowo nieco, mi się podoba, głównie ze względu na bardzo trafiony tekst i modulację do moll w trzeciej strofie.


Cigarettes and chocolate milk
These are just a couple of my cravings
Everything it seems I like’s a little bit stronger
A little bit thicker
A little bit harmful for me

If I should buy jellybeans
Have to eat them all in just one sitting
Everything it seems I like’s a little bit sweeter
A little bit fatter
A little bit harmful for me

And then there’s those other things
Which for several reasons we won’t mention
Everything about them is a little bit stranger
A little bit harder
A little bit deadly

It isn’t very smart
Tends to make one part so broken-hearted


Zapodane przez Wiewióra.

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