miércoles, 12 de agosto de 2015


Zula  va ser un dels meus primers Summer Tales  ( estiu 2013) amb un  significat molt especial. Després la  vaig traduir. I ara toca recuperar-la per posar-la definitivament a la memòria, com una  de les  cançons d´amor més  belles que 
s´hagin escrit mai, encara que no  sigui massa coneguda.

Tanquem finestres  Bagué!

Disfruteu-la en un lyric video  fet per casa  junt amb dos petits postres, la  mateixa  cançó cantada  per les meves segones sueques preferides ( primer sempre Anna Ternheim)  les First Aid Kit ( les de l´anunci del  Kadjar)

I per últim una altra delicatessen. Una  cançó dels primers  àlbums de Phosphorescent, una delicada i bellissima  cançó d´amor . 


                               I remember evenings when my dad would sing
Hiding in the hallways, I am listening
Keeping still my body until it’s borne aloft
Her hair is soft her breath is soft and her name is soft
And gather me completely in her sighing hands
My dove my dove my lamb

Born with ocean thunder underneath our veins
Lonelier than cows left standing in the rain
Holy when our weight into the waves is tossed
Though ships get lost and fish get lost and names get lost
She will wait to greet me where it meets dry land
My dove my dove my lamb

So. Careful of that language babe some words are stones
They’ll lead you out from town and leave you all alone
Past the mirrored diamond mares that run all night
Where camptown ladies sing that song ‘aw come aw wry’
But lo they sing it sweetly so I’ll understand
My dove my dove my lamb

Though my sight be near and my way be long
Though the light I chase be disappeared by dawn
I have seen her standing on the roofs at night
I have seen her silver figure bathed and bright
And I have seen her sleeping in the cold white sand
My dove my dove my lamb

So even in these cities where she’s haunting me
Even when my weariness is wanting me
Even when my wickednesses want to breathe
Even in these dirty clubs counting 1-2-3
I will keep a singing til I no more can
My dove my dove my lamb

And later if I’m better I’ll be born again
I’ll pull my newborn body from the thorns and limbs
Finding with my fingers where they’ve torn the page
From some ancient book all gold and worn from age
And writ upon it neatly though in trembling hand
My dove my dove my lamb

Then later in the evening I hear trumpets ring
I stretch out in the dark and I am listening
Studying the sadness in your perfect limbs
Move them under mine until they learn to blend
And I will keep repeating til they understand
My dove my dove my lamb

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