Текст песни The Refugee (Ezra Furman) с переводом

I am a refugee now

I am running like mad across a frosty green Poland

My head in a sack

And the blood in my brain screaming

«How did this happen?»

And «Where am I now?»

Who is so blue in this freeze

Who is so grey with the history

Rain dancing all on my face without mercy

And the muscles relax

And I just have to laugh

Through the loose teeth and tissue

The symphony builds under your boot

And the horns drool in harmony

Dancers all swoon

This is my bloody tune

My last gasp of the past

My thorn in the side of the violence of time

I won’t scream, I won’t writhe

I am laughing and burning alive

Like a thornbush

That grew in the hot countryside

Now the fire is high

And I am not consumed

Yes, this is the room

This is the old song from memory

This is the sound of the Jew

Who refuses to die

April 4th, 1944

I recall my old address no more

I live day to day on the glossy dancefloor

Of a wide countryside full of disappeared people

I sleep in the churches

Eat grass like a goat

The calendar hangs on the wall of my memory

My name is inscribed up the sleeve of my coat

Here I am

Take this document with you

The lines that I wrote as I bled through the night

In a strange rusted land

I have ripped the page out

It is here in my hand

Here I am

Person of the book

But I have lost my page like so many others

I am left to inscribe my own name

On a torn one

We will have a new book scattered far

Across the expanses

The scrapbook of signatures scrawled

In forgotten, lost diaries

Texts to recite when time’s bloody boot

Dances and kicks in the bone of our chest

Like soft earth

And our ancient hoarse voices

Will echo in song

And resound off the curve of a high stony ceiling

The curve of the arch

From our death to our birth

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