domingo, janeiro 11, 2015

Where the Wild Roses Grow

Música e vinho e largando, deixando de lado, todas as outras coisas que não têm interesse. Porque com vinho e música, pouco mais precisamos. Vamos sendo embalados pelas letras, pelo som, pela bebida. A mente fica livre, solta, sem regras, correndo por um mundo infinito, sem estar presos a redomas. Olha-se de frente, fixamos o olhar com os olhos fechados e esquecemos todas as maleitas da vida. Sentimos-nos mais puros ou, se calhar, ignoramos as impurezas que nos foram sujando ao longo do tempo.

Elegante, suave, que nos vai acompanhando lentamente durante a noite. Embala. Serve o propósito de acalmar a alma, o corpo.

Pegando em algumas passagens das melhores baladas que existem, Where the Wild Roses Grow, nada melhor que ir bebendo um copo de vinho, vagueando pelo tempo, olhando por cima, reparando, ou não, em tanta coisa: chamam-me Rosa Selvagem (...), não sei, porque me chamam assim, (...), desde o primeiro dia que a vi, sabia que era ela. Ela fixava o seu olhar nos meus olhos e sorria, os seus lábios eram da cor das rosa e cresciam junto ao rio ...


Where The Wild Roses Grow"

They call me The Wild Rose
But my name was Elisa Day
Why they call me it I do not know
For my name was Elisa Day 
From the first day I saw her I knew she was the one
She stared in my eyes and smiled
For her lips were the colour of the roses
That grew down the river, all bloody and wild 
When he knocked on my door and entered the room
My trembling subsided in his sure embrace
He would be my first man, and with a careful hand
He wiped at the tears that ran down my face 

On the second day I brought her a flower
She was more beautiful than any woman I'd seen
I said, "Do you know where the wild roses grow
So sweet and scarlet and free?" 
On the second day he came with a single red rose
Said: "Will you give me your loss and your sorrow"
I nodded my head, as I lay on the bed
He said, "If I show you the roses, will you follow?" 

On the third day he took me to the river
He showed me the roses and we kissed
And the last thing I heard was a muttered word
As he knelt (stood smiling) above me with a rock in his fist 
On the last day I took her where the wild roses grow
And she lay on the bank, the wind light as a thief
And I kissed her goodbye, said, "All beauty must die"
And lent down and planted a rose between her teeth 

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