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Άλμπουμ:
Feutres et Pastels
Πρωτότυποι στίχοι
Μετάφραση
L'architect
The Architect
He was a great dancer
He became an architect
He had a gifted for letters and languages
He was talking to his plants
He did miracles in the kitchen
Mixed divine spices
But his father on Sunday, busy drinking his cocktail
It seems that he never noticed that his son was beautiful.
He loved music dearly
He became an architect
He was its poet and pianist sometimes
He surrounded himself with artists
he always ends up in the kitchen
juggling clementines
But his father on Sunday at dinner in front of this scene
he never noticed that his son was beautiful.
He could live from performing in a theater
He became an architect
He learnt quotes by Camus and Socrates
He had read in secret
He threw his jackets, his ties
Shirtless, he was an acrobat
But his father on Sunday ignored the prowess of his son
And never spoke of the next building project
He stayed architect
He drew wonders
A juggled compasses and rules
A pencil on the ear
The jacket, the tie in place
Meanwhile his whiskey on ice
Like his father on Sunday when ringing the hour of his drink
He was a great dancer
He became a bit steep
But still sometimes he gets up and rushes
And the steps follow each other
Here he spins in front of the mirror
He sees the little guy, the gymnast
That his father on Sunday, it seems, has never found beautiful!
And his father, a Sunday, fled to his final resting place
Without ever having seen, it seems that her son was beautiful
Μπορείς να ευχαριστήσεις τον υποβάλλων πατώντας αυτό το κουμπί.
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Bathna33υποβλήθηκε στις 22 Δεκ 2015 - 10:46
Σχόλια συντάκτη:
I did my best!
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Lynda Lemay TOP 3
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Bathna33Νέο Μέλος
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ΜητρικήΑραβικά
ΕυφράδειαΑγγλικά, Γαλλικά
ΑρχάριοςΑγγλικά, Γαλλικά
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