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Dance, lassie, dance! |
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, ! , , ! , . , , , , - , , , , , - . , , , , , - , , * , . , , ** ! - , ! , , , , , ... , , , ! * (.., ... - ) . "" " ". ** - " ", (, ). | Dance, lassie, dance! Dance, lassie, dance and I will sing to thee! Drive thine own beat into raw wooden planking Under the feet Ill play this lively pattern And plait thy lovely beauty into it. Dance, lassie, dance like tingling tongue of flame, Stamp on my sightless heart thou barefooted A candles not enough, its warmth is rather muted For Minstrel in the gloom that hath no end. We are alike, they say, the night and I. I cherish it as much as thou thy lovely beauty. Dance, lassie, dance! Expose to view thou cutie Thine ankles, long and thin like blade of knife, And round knees. Free children of the camp, You have no strangest whimsies whatsoever That city Nasses* have, afraid of simple fever, And muffling up their legs in pretty net Of airy laces and fine linen cloth. Dance, lassie, dance to Siddhe** all restrictions! Its maidens charms that have a jurisdiction To reconcile the Minstrel with the worlds Imperfectness. Among the likes of thee Dance, lassie, dance, to ash turn eyes, and bosom, And lower part of mine. A candles not much use of, So light thou a campfire well for me! © erleben * Nasses ['næsiz] (plural for Nassa [næsə], f. sg.) one of forms to address the local aristocracy, something like lords (Nass [næs] m. sg.) and ladies. This term belongs to the world created by Suboshi&Amiboshi. ** the Siddhe [sidhə] wonderful creatures from the authors world resembling in a way the Sidhe and Tuatha Dé Danann. |
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, , , , , , , , , , , , , , - , , , - . | The Men Are Dancing The Tango The men are dancing the tango in darkness on city square, The men in black-and-white colours, all looking like charming devils, The men are dancing the tango and nights being torn to tatter By flaming passion in blood veins and life in the loins of theirs, And out of ancient pavement theyre knocking on sparkles blinking With newly steal-crowned flat heels of elegant shoes for dancing, The men are doing the tango while gypsy necklaces jingling On women whose hands are clenching, in pain their hands are clenching, A wasted effort to cover the fervent hunger for making The dancers attached to women like tethered mustangs to masters, For making this heat entangled and charmed by the skirts, all swaying The men are dancing the tango on city square in darkness. © erleben |
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