So I was walking along just thinking the blues, And I thought it might sound better if sung in french. So on the way back I thought the blues in french, then I thought them aloud to see how they sounded with melody.
well, I don't expect anyone to appreciate that as fully as I did, but when I got back, I tried writing it out, then translating it, What whackiness.
So I corrected errors and translated it back. but it seems no matter how many times you do this, something is always lost in translation.
without further ado, here is the final lyrics in french of a servicable first verse and possible chorus.
Quote:
si vous demandez ce qui s'est produit ma voix
peut-être son le son du blues
C'est juste une autre chose.
une épine dans la vie le rose
une épine dans le tout.
Alors nous joue les roles, faire nous-mêmes vies les cause.
Dans mon temps, autrefois je joue le fou
Mais J'suis pas un fou
Un fou pas peut faire le blues
Just cause il est le fou.
Viennent promenade avec moi sous les étoiles.
Faire un voeu......................venir vrai.
je sais tu peut faire Un peu de la paix sur le terre.
Si vous commencez avec "désolé".
the first translator I tried thinks i mean this:
Quote:
If you ask what happened to my voice,
may be the sound of the blues,
It's just another thing.
a thorn in the life of rose
a thorn in all.
Then we played the roles, making ourselves lives the reason.
In my time, once I play the fool,
But I'm not a fool A fool can not make the blues.
Just because he is crazy.
come walk with me under the stars.
Make a wish.............come true.
I know you can do a little peace on the earth.
If you start with "sorry"
I meant a little something like this:
Quote:
If you're wondring what happend to my voice,
It may just be the sound of the blues,
It's just something else.
a thorn in the rosy life
a thorn in everything.
Then we played the roles, Giving our lives a reason.
In my time, I used to play the fool,
But I'm no fool, A fool can not make the blues.
Just because he is a fool
Come walk with me under the stars.
Make a wish.............come true.
I know you can make a little peace on earth.
If you start with "sorry"
I haven't posted in quite a while. Frankly I dont understand the point of it anymore. That's not an insult so much as a surrender. I feel like anything we do is merely a desperate grab at attachment. A moment-by-moment running expression of our need to decorate existing. Every new version of old technology reflects our decline. We find new things to celebrate constantly, until celebration itself becomes mediocre .
Maybe God is as tired of us as we are of the things we create. Each new edition of humanity seems obsolete as soon as its released.
everything for me is a metaphor of everything else. I guess I just see an undercurrent of casuality that flows the same through all it's manifestations. It started so long ago, and I came into this game, comparitively late, Yet I sence I missed nothing of consequence. What troubles me, Is I could simmilarly describe my own idea of hell.
So I got the blues, The blues were always there, and I've been fighting to hold it back with a flexed ego, that frankly, could use a rest.
I actually don't want to aquire things or do fun things, Because things dissapoint me, Or perhaps I'm merely dissappointed in my ability to enjoy myself.
I guess only I can know. Somehow depression feels enlightning, or is it the other way round? chicken-egg? Either way, it supports itself.
Anyway, that's about all I have to say in this post. A sudden vommiting of introspective meaning, not particularly dressed or accountable, but meaningful. More in it's way than ever, writing on the walls.
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