knyazeva:

The Doors - Peace Frog. Все бы достаточно забавно и на веселе, если не начинать вслушиваться и переводить, хотя как это не делать, тем более если это Doors. Сам факт того, что песня Doors уже не говорит о "радужности", а тем более если это стихи Моррисона. В том, что это стихи Джима нет никакого сомнения. Строчки "Indians scattered on dawn's highway bleeding. Ghosts crowd the young child's fragile eggshell mind" - это, наверное, самое знаменитейшее и известнейшее событие из детства Моррисона, которое, если проследить, присутствует везде, во всем, взять хотя бы образ. Думаю, что переводить не нужно.

There's blood in the streets, it's up to my ankles She came There's blood in the streets, it's up to my knee She came There's blood in the streets in the town of Chicago She came Blood on the rise, it's following me Think about the break of day She came and then she drove away Sunlight in her hair She came Blood in the streets runs a river of sadness She came Blood in the streets it's up to my thigh She came Yeah the river runs down the legs of the city She came The women are crying red rivers of weepin' She came into town and then she drove away Sunlight in her hair Indians scattered on dawn's highway bleeding Ghosts crowd the young child's fragile eggshell mind Blood in the streets in the town of New Haven Blood stains the roofs and the palm trees of Venice Blood in my love in the terrible summer Bloody red sun of phantastic L.A. Blood streams her brain as they chop off her fingers Blood will be born in the birth of a nation Blood is the rose of mysterious union There's blood in the streets, it's up to my ankles Blood in the streets, it's up to my knee Blood in the streets in the town of Chicago Blood on the rise, it's following me