LA FLOR DEL DESERTO
PoliticalFantasiaTristeA ves cadun debe aprendePede finaLa flor del estate
Escuta la colibriLa plaiaMe parla a la ventaLa arenas friaLa xica del pais norde

ISOLA FRANCAPALMAS DE LA ENCANTARIO DE LUNALA FLOR DEL DESERTOCARTA POSTALPALIMPSESTOLA CIMERASA VOSE

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Me parla a la venta

Ian McDonald e Peter Sinfield,
de la bande brites King Crimson
(I Talk to the Wind, 1969)
Traduida de la lingua engles e adatada par Michel Gaillard

[¹]

La pronto dise
a la tarda:
« Do tu ia es, tu?
— Me ia es asi,
me ia es ala
e entre la du:
Me parla a la venta,
un parla cual es traeda a via…
Me parla a la venta…
La venta no oia,
la venta no pote oia… »

« Me, de estra,
regarda a en…
Cual cosa me vide?
Multe confusa,
desilude,
tota a sirca…
— Me parla a la venta,
un parla cual es traeda a via…
Me parla a la venta…
La venta no oia,
la venta no pote oia… »

« Tu no impresa,
no interesa,
sola noia vastida…
no instrui,
no construi,
cuanto tempo perida…
— Me parla a la venta,
un parla cual es traeda a via…
Me parla a la venta…
La venta no oia,
la venta no pote oia… »



« Me parla a la venta,
un parla cual es traeda a via…
Me parla a la venta…
La venta no oia,
la venta no pote oia… »

La pronto dise
a la tarda:
« Do tu ia es, tu?
— Me ia es asi,
me ia es ala
e entre la du… »

Ian McDonald e Peter Sinfield (King Crimson, In the Court of Krimson King, 1969): Said the straight man to the late man / “Where have you been?” / — I’ve been here and I’ve been there / And I’ve been in between / I talk to the wind, my words are all carried away / I talk to the wind / The wind does not hear / The wind cannot hear / / — I’m on the outside looking inside / What do I see? / Much confusion, disillusion / All around me / — I talk to the wind, my words are all carried away / I talk to the wind / The wind does not hear / The wind cannot hear / / — You don’t possess me, don’t impress me / Just upset my mind / Can’t instruct me or conduct me / Just use up my time / — I talk to the wind, my words are all carried away / I talk to the wind / The wind does not hear / The wind cannot hear / ∴ / I talk to the wind, my words are all carried away / I talk to the wind / The wind does not hear / The wind cannot hear / / Said the straight man to the late man: / “Where have you been?” / — I’ve been here and I’ve been there / And I’ve been in between”


[¹] Depinta La flor del deserto, par Yves Gaillard, 1972.

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