Текст песни The Play's The Thing (Peter Hammill) с переводом

How could he know so much?

How could he bear such knowledge?

How could he dare to write it in the plays?

What is it Shakespeare’d say

If he came back today?

Surely he’d recognize these mortal coils

How do we carry on?

No-one knows where they fit in

No-one knows who they are or where they’ve been

What does the writer mean?

How do we play this scene?

What didn’t Shakespeare know that we do now?

Stiffen the sinews

Wear hard-favour'd rage

All history’s drama

The world is a stage

«There is a history in all men’s lives

Figuring the nature of the times deceas’d;

The which observ’d, a man may prophesy

With a near aim, of the main chance of things

As yet not come to life, which in their seeds

And weak beginnings lie intreasured

Such things become the hatch and brood of time…»

Oh, but the show goes on

On through the seven ages —

That of the world must mirror man’s, in fact

Here comes the seventh act

See how the mirror’s cracked

Here comes sans everything for humankind

To capture the conscience

Of nations and kings

All history’s drama —

The play’s the thing

The play’s the thing

The play’s the thing

How could he know so much?

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