Jerzy Skolimowski. “Le Départ”. 1967
“… The lane is laced with ashes
My road is paved with fear
I bathed myself in sweet grass to tame the years
And I've got nothing on the inside left to charm, just look at me
And I've got nothing to live up to and nothing to reveal
Go on run for me
Go on run for me
Go on run for me because I can't take it back
Gone the summer gone the past and now it's done
Now it's done…”
Como una cobardía escapista perseguir un sueño, la posibilidad de una perfección del deseo sublime, cueste lo que cueste, tarde lo que tarde, incluso si nunca llegara.
“… The lane is laced with ashes
My road is paved with fear
I bathed myself in sweet grass to tame the years
And I've got nothing on the inside left to charm, just look at me
And I've got nothing to live up to and nothing to reveal
Go on run for me
Go on run for me
Go on run for me because I can't take it back
Gone the summer gone the past and now it's done
Now it's done…”
Como una cobardía escapista perseguir un sueño, la posibilidad de una perfección del deseo sublime, cueste lo que cueste, tarde lo que tarde, incluso si nunca llegara.
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