The Letter Home by Elvis Costello
Sep. 30th, 2006 03:34 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tyomac/o St. Ignatus House, Willoughby Drive,
Parrametta, New South Wales, this fifth day of July
in the year of Our Lord nineteen hundred and thirty five
Why must I always apologize
every time that I sit down to write
Through my own fault I may find
You're no longer living at this address
Please excuse the lack of news
The feeling of strange privilege
for the hour of trial, in these times of distress
Mean more than years imprisoned by etiquette.
I can remember when we were children
Though I could never imagine this day
Your brother told me we'd live forever
I'll go one better, I heard myself say
And it seems so strange, now that he's gone to recall all these games
While the years have divided us
Friendships have strained and broken
Oh, by the way, how's that girl that you wed
I hated you then, but I'm over the worst of it
I can't come home,
I might as well say,
life is short
I shall not
write again
(from The Juliet Letters)
Все-таки эта пластинка - какой-то невероятный по силе триумф духа человеческого, говоря выспренно и почти что пошло. Но вот никак я не могу подобрать ей других эпитетов, честное слово.
Parrametta, New South Wales, this fifth day of July
in the year of Our Lord nineteen hundred and thirty five
Why must I always apologize
every time that I sit down to write
Through my own fault I may find
You're no longer living at this address
Please excuse the lack of news
The feeling of strange privilege
for the hour of trial, in these times of distress
Mean more than years imprisoned by etiquette.
I can remember when we were children
Though I could never imagine this day
Your brother told me we'd live forever
I'll go one better, I heard myself say
And it seems so strange, now that he's gone to recall all these games
While the years have divided us
Friendships have strained and broken
Oh, by the way, how's that girl that you wed
I hated you then, but I'm over the worst of it
I can't come home,
I might as well say,
life is short
I shall not
write again
(from The Juliet Letters)
Все-таки эта пластинка - какой-то невероятный по силе триумф духа человеческого, говоря выспренно и почти что пошло. Но вот никак я не могу подобрать ей других эпитетов, честное слово.
