Barbara - Perlimpinpin Лирицс транслатион то енглисх

Perlimpinpin

For whom, how, when and why?
Against whom? How? Against what?
Enough with your violences.
Where do you come from?
Where are you going?
Who are you?
Who do you pray to?
I ask you to be silent.
For whom, how, when and why?
If it's absolutely necessary for us to be
Against someone or something.
I am for the setting sun
At the top of the deserted hills.
I am for the deep forests.
Because a child who cries,
No matter where he is from,
Is a child who cries.
Because a child who dies,
At the end of your rifles,
Is a child who dies.
How appalling it is to have to choose
Between two innocence's.
How appalling it's to have for enemies
The laughs of childhood!
For whom, how, when and how much?
Against whom? How and how much?
To the point of losing the taste of living
The taste of water, the taste of bread
And the one of the Perlimpinpin²
In the Square des Batignolles
But for nothing, but for almost nothing,
To be with you and that's fine!
And for an half-open rose,
And for a breathing,
And for a breeze of abandon,
And for a shivering garden!
Having nothing, but passionately,
Frantically not saying anything to one another
But give everything ecstatically
And wealthy with deprivation
Only have one's own truth,
Own all the wealths.
Not speaking of poetry
While trampling down wild flowers.
And invoke transparence,
At the back of a yard with grey walls
Where dawn never stands a chance.
Against whom, how, against what?
For whom, how, when and why?
To find back the taste of living,
The taste of water, the taste of bread
And the one of Perlimpinin
In the Square des Batignolles
Against no one and against nothing,
But for all the open flowers,
But for a breathing,
But for a breeze of abandon
And for that shivering garden!
And to live passionately
And to fight only
with the fires of the tenderness
And wealthy with deprivation
Only have one's own truth,
Own all the wealth
Not speaking of poetry anymore
But let the wild flowers live
And invoke transparency
At the back of a yard with grey walls
Where dawn would finally stand a chance
To live,
To live,
And to live passionately
And fight only
with the fires of the tenderness
And wealthy with deprivation
Only have one's own truth
Own all the wealth
Nothing else but tenderness as only wealth
And to give,
But to give,
ecstatically!
To live,
To live,
With tenderness,
To live,
To live,
ecstatically!
Nothing else but tenderness as only wealth
And to give,
But to give,
ecstatically!
 


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