Текст песни The Beaujolais Lanes (Pocketbooks) с переводом

Take me back to the ochre-coloured towns

When you were 20, I was 21

And we left the city to its own devices for a while

Just one last summer then we’ll knuckle down

Hand in hand, we hugged for warmth on midnight ferries and

I skimmed the guidebook and you drank tax-free red wine

I picked up lines from dated phrasebooks and

You took a biro and sketched out maps of the Beaujolais lanes

Where the tailbacks run for miles

Another vineyard and another chance

To identify complexity, expressiveness and taste

From the Côte de Brouilly to the distant look on your face

And gradually our June vacation

Lost its sense of anticipation somehow

With every swirl and taste and savour

Well I could sense you drifting further away

And across the scattered towns

The connoisseurs and wind-swept tourists

Pursue a true perfection with a smile

As the tears run down the glass

The wine you drink straight from the vineyard

Will fade as winter months draw nearer

Replaced with every year

The wood-smoke has gone to our heads

Now you’re heading back to the city and I am lost in the Beaujolais lanes

As the celebrations fade

I was 22 then, you seem years away

Just as anyone in marketing can speak a simple spiel

When something’s new, it’s got a raw appeal

Then with time, we start to see a clearer picture

Perceptions shift and attractions alter

And I can taste wine with objective rigour

I speak the language and everything’s crystal clear

Across the scattered towns

The connoisseurs and wind-swept tourists

Pursue a true perfection with a smile

As the tears run down the glass

The wine you drink straight from the vineyard

Will fade as winter months draw nearer

Replaced with every year

The wood-smoke has gone to our heads

Now you’re heading back to the city and I’ll

Go aimlessly stumbling back

Back through the Beaujolais Lanes

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