На древней руси скоморохам за песенки вливали в глотку раскаленный свинец. Люди которые это делали почему то были уверены что они святоши а скоморохи песни поют с жиру и вообще все это дьявольщина. Но почему то мне кажется что все было наоборот.
Ну просто мероприятие количество посетителей которого, превышает кажется 500 человек, уже требует специального разрешения, охраны и обеспечения пожарной безопасности. Другое дело. что это почти 11 лет ни кого особо не волновало.
Я говорю про СОВРЕМЕННЫЙ и увы умирающий Детройт, а не про славное прошлое.
Насколько это событие известно на среднем западе США, я могу судить хотя бы потому что на днях даже бармен в случайном кабаке, услышав что мы приехали из Детройта, воскликнул «о! вы слышали какие вещи они там делают на хеллоуин»!
Да вы правы… Там безусловно настоящий разврат и групповухи в каждом темном уголке здания, настоящие человеческие жертвоприношения, а бартендеры разливают по стаканам кровушку литрами… Это не маска, а голова клоуна зомбо которая весела над главной сценой. из чего сделана не знаю…
Ох я работаю над этим сейчас…
Дело в том что у Кейта, даже в жизни весьма вычурный язык и большой словарный запас, а песня тем более не из легких для перевода. :) Просто хочетя перевести политературнее.
Ой ей. Я вообще то не расчитывала на высылку водки всерьез. Думала что тебе будет просто по приколу ввести адрес в гугле и посмотреть на мою улицу и дом:)
Уже два раза в личных сообщениях меня спросили о тексте песни. Поэтому привожу текст
In the Observarium
In the Observarium where the fragrant kill moss glows,
and wild whispy tanglers slither softly 'neath your toes,
Where Polynesia loudly cries and Tobermory prowls,*
You'll find the haunted seeing stone, the ever watchful eye –
The dark and subtle tool of fate,
Whose visions all do fascinate,
and eldritch power craves to sate
Your curiosity.
The wing chair softly beckons in the candle's flickering light,
While outside something quickens in the stillness of the night,
The eager glint of crimson eyes as something darksome growls,
Will send a shiver down your spine as you begin to scry —
Your hands they rove across the glass,
And ghostly shadows of the past
Within your mind begin to cast
A fateful symmetry.
Chorus:
In the Observarium, you'll see the world anew
Here topsy-turvy rules the day, and everything's askew.
Your mind may well be overthrown by the visions that you see
And cast adrift forever more upon the sunless sea.
You'll see the doom of those who've gazed into the glass before —
The fateful cup of “tea” that laid Lord Plodger on the floor.
Not all his vaunted foresight saved him from that drink most foul;
a gift from his demimondaine for infidelity:
The Lady Grisly-Montagu,
She murdered husbands one and two,
But sadly sipped the poison brew
And now with Plodger lies.
There is little Sally Faire, who so loved the crystal ball
That she would sit and stare for days and eat no food at all.
Until at length she passed away – the Goddess rest her soul —
And haunts the Observarium for all eternity.
A creaking step upon the stair,
A child's whimper 'pon the air,
Is all that's left of Sally Faire,
Lest you have eyes to See.
Chorus:
In the Observarium, you'll see the world anew
Here topsy-turvy rules the day, and everything's askew.
Your mind may well be overthrown by the visions that you see.
And cast adrift forever more upon the sunless sea.
But chimeras of the future are worse than horrors past
For the seeing stone misleads you and takes you down the path
to fantasy, delusion – the place where demons howl.
Its restless spirit gaily mocks at your credulity.
And you, poor sod, confused and lost,
Who failed to assess the cost,
Now on the winds of fate are tossed
By cruel perfidy.
Chorus:
In the Observarium, you'll see the world anew
Here topsy-turvy rules the day, and everything's askew.
Your mind may well be overthrown by the visions that you see.
And cast adrift forever more upon the sunless sea.
Repeat:
In the Observarium, the crystal watches you.
It plays upon your hopes and fears until your mind's askew.
You'll end like all the others, a sallow, haunted shade
And walk the Observarium until the end of days.
Насколько это событие известно на среднем западе США, я могу судить хотя бы потому что на днях даже бармен в случайном кабаке, услышав что мы приехали из Детройта, воскликнул «о! вы слышали какие вещи они там делают на хеллоуин»!
Дело в том что у Кейта, даже в жизни весьма вычурный язык и большой словарный запас, а песня тем более не из легких для перевода. :) Просто хочетя перевести политературнее.
In the Observarium
In the Observarium where the fragrant kill moss glows,
and wild whispy tanglers slither softly 'neath your toes,
Where Polynesia loudly cries and Tobermory prowls,*
You'll find the haunted seeing stone, the ever watchful eye –
The dark and subtle tool of fate,
Whose visions all do fascinate,
and eldritch power craves to sate
Your curiosity.
The wing chair softly beckons in the candle's flickering light,
While outside something quickens in the stillness of the night,
The eager glint of crimson eyes as something darksome growls,
Will send a shiver down your spine as you begin to scry —
Your hands they rove across the glass,
And ghostly shadows of the past
Within your mind begin to cast
A fateful symmetry.
Chorus:
In the Observarium, you'll see the world anew
Here topsy-turvy rules the day, and everything's askew.
Your mind may well be overthrown by the visions that you see
And cast adrift forever more upon the sunless sea.
You'll see the doom of those who've gazed into the glass before —
The fateful cup of “tea” that laid Lord Plodger on the floor.
Not all his vaunted foresight saved him from that drink most foul;
a gift from his demimondaine for infidelity:
The Lady Grisly-Montagu,
She murdered husbands one and two,
But sadly sipped the poison brew
And now with Plodger lies.
There is little Sally Faire, who so loved the crystal ball
That she would sit and stare for days and eat no food at all.
Until at length she passed away – the Goddess rest her soul —
And haunts the Observarium for all eternity.
A creaking step upon the stair,
A child's whimper 'pon the air,
Is all that's left of Sally Faire,
Lest you have eyes to See.
Chorus:
In the Observarium, you'll see the world anew
Here topsy-turvy rules the day, and everything's askew.
Your mind may well be overthrown by the visions that you see.
And cast adrift forever more upon the sunless sea.
But chimeras of the future are worse than horrors past
For the seeing stone misleads you and takes you down the path
to fantasy, delusion – the place where demons howl.
Its restless spirit gaily mocks at your credulity.
And you, poor sod, confused and lost,
Who failed to assess the cost,
Now on the winds of fate are tossed
By cruel perfidy.
Chorus:
In the Observarium, you'll see the world anew
Here topsy-turvy rules the day, and everything's askew.
Your mind may well be overthrown by the visions that you see.
And cast adrift forever more upon the sunless sea.
Repeat:
In the Observarium, the crystal watches you.
It plays upon your hopes and fears until your mind's askew.
You'll end like all the others, a sallow, haunted shade
And walk the Observarium until the end of days.
Так лучше? :)