Текст песни The Hole in the Map (Lorraine Feather) с переводом

Slightly below the Equator,

Beneath a scalding sun

Waits a counterfeit paradise

And sure oblivion,

Or so they told our hero,

In 1925,

As he went back to the river

That ate so many alive.

It starts as a trickle in the clouds and snow,

With more than an America still to go.

Steamrollers into the sea,

Wide as New York City.

Passable only in the worst of the heat,

In the winter it rises 40 feet.

The green hell is a heady trap,

So dont fall down

The hole in the map.

Youd bet such a forest would feed you,

You would lose that bet.

You thought you learned about fortitude

As a gentleman cadet!

The painful pranks, the floggings,

Were bliss compared to this,

As you hack through the lianas

Where hanging boas hiss.

There are bugs thatll kill you with a single bite,

Turn your cotton britches to threads in a night,

Homicidal gnats no bigger than seeds,

Cynanide-squirting millipedes.

Still you know you love it and you wont be swayed

Though you never are fully unafraid.

Hits your heart like a thunderclap,

So dont fall down

The hole in the map

Back in the comfort of Devon,

You sweeten your tea and sigh

Free now to sleep till eleven,

And watch the old world go by.

You smile at your civilized heaven,

And say that at last, youll stay,

But close by the gates

The Amazon waits

To quietly drag you away.

Drag you away,

Back to the river.

Its passable only in the worst of the heat,

In the winter it rises 40 feet.

The green hell is a heady trap.

Dont fall.

There are bugs thatll kill you with a single bite,

Turn your cotton britches to threads in a night,

Homicidal gnats no bigger than seeds,

Cynanide-squirting millipedes.

Перевод песни The Hole in the Map