Текст песни Poets (The Tragically Hip) с переводом

Spring starts when a heartbeat’s poundin'

When the birds can be heard above the reckonin' carts doin' some final

accountin'

Lava flowin' in Superfarmer’s direction

He’s been gettin' reprieve from the heat in the frozen food section, yeah

Don’t tell me what the poets are doin'

Don’t tell me that they’re talking tough

Don’t tell me that they’re anti-social

Somehow not anti-social enough, all right

And porn speaks to its splintered legions

To the pink amid the withered cornstalks in them winter regions (Yeah)

While aimin' at the archetypal father

He said with such broad and tentative swipes, «Why do you even bother?» (Yeah)

Don’t tell me what the poets are doin'

Those Himalayas of the mind

Don’t tell me what the poets been doin'

In the long grasses over time

Don’t tell me what the poets are doin'

On the street and the epitome of vague

Don’t tell me how the universe is altered

When you find out how he gets paid, all right

If there’s nothing more that ya need now

The lawn cut by bare-breasted women

Beach bleached towels within reach for the women

Got to make it, that’ll make it by swimmin'

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