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Celine
Everyone knows that tumbling hair, a shivery gesture of hand by her mouth,
Yes it's Celine, Celine, it is Celine
Her laughter sounds like a trumpet call, as the whole town stays asleep,
She has not sobered up since Saturday, the binge has lasted four days since,
And in twist she grooves,
Among flashing clip earrings, on broken glass.
La-la-la! Thus sang someone at the bar.
That's Black Joe drinking gin, Celine's dude, tough guy.
He's been drinking for four days, now emptying the hundredth cup,
The air left him instantly, he fell into clinical death,
His cheek got wax pale,
Joe got rid of his worries about Celine.
Now remember the piece of advice I give all of you today:
You may count on your friends, they'll help you.
Joe's hangover passed, his friends got to fix him up,
Look for Celine, faggot, where is the record player, the house, the booze?
Now Joe did not cry, he's tough.
He howled like a dog for an hour.
Yes, yes, yes! To the junkyard goes Celine,
Black Joe coming to her house with his hitmen.
The flash of their shanks in the square reflected on the doorway,
The golden watches under their cuffs tick the seconds away.
And there the band stands
Under the window, in the parlor and at the door - just make the sign.
The window curtains spill the light, inside it's daylight-bright
Yes it's Celine's, Celine's, Celine's shadow.
Her hands waver, two exotic flowers
Celine naked at the blowout, among lust and glass.
There comes a sudden shift
At the threshold stands Ginger Ray, Joe's pal.
Jingle went the window glass.
Naked Celine runs into the night, what kitsch, oh what kitsch!
Now all she wants is to hide down in helll,
Oh Joe, Joe, where were you when I started to drink?
Why didn't you bitch-slap my face?
Yet the night keeps its silence and just the blade glitters.
Oh why Joe's shank had such sharp a blade?
You all know those binges and there's nothing bad about them.
But Celine's voice, the scent of Celine's hair
Covers her eyes with a red mist, closes her palm in a fist,
Joe just lifted his brow,
Flash, and unto the white breast spills her blood!
Oh hear me, the world cried in pain, like a sick dog at his masters' feet,
It's for Celine, Celine, Celine, they're digging that grave.
Police siren in the square,
The blue glass flashes, Joe gets busted by the cops,
And ever since from behind bars,
Joe and Ray see the world without Celine.
Just at times, when it's night, Joe pricks up his ears,
Yes, it's Celine's, Celine's, Celine's ghost.
So now you know I've just entertained you with my singing,
Just for regular kidding - there's no truth in all that.
This is just a joke.
Oh come on - the ballad is finished!
oskar
crimson_antics✕
Comentarii
Russia is waging a disgraceful war on Ukraine. Stai cu Ucraina!
Despre traducător
The thuggish 50ies slang and Polish vodka-soaked atmosphere is largely impossible to translate (for me), but here it is. Quite fun to rewrite this, anyway