Late November
The wine it was drunk, the ship it was sunk,
The shot it was dead, all the sorrows were drowned.
The birds they were clouds, the brides and the shrouds
And as we drew south the mist it came down.
The wooded ravine to the wandering stream,
The serpent he moved, but no-one would say.
The depths of the waters, the bridge which distraught us
And brought to me thoughts of the ill-fated day.
The temples were filled with the strangest of creatures
One played it by ear on the banks of the sea.
That one was found but the others they went under.
Oh the tears which are shed, they won't come from me.
The methods of madness, the pathos and the sadness,
God help you all, the insane and wise.
The black and the white, the darkness of the night,
I see only smoke from the chimneys arise.
The pilot he flew all across the sky and woke me.
He flew solo on the mercury sea.
The dream it came back, all about the tall brown people,
The sacred young herd on the phosphorus sand.
Final de Novembro
O vinho foi bebido, o navio afundou,
O tiro foi certeiro, todas as mágoas se afogaram.
Os pássaros eram nuvens, as noivas e os caixões
E enquanto íamos pro sul, a névoa desceu.
O vale arborizado pro rio errante,
A serpente se moveu, mas ninguém disse nada.
As profundezas das águas, a ponte que nos atormentou
E trouxe a mim lembranças do dia maldito.
Os templos estavam cheios das criaturas mais estranhas
Um tocava de ouvido nas margens do mar.
Aquele foi encontrado, mas os outros se afundaram.
Oh, as lágrimas que caem, não virão de mim.
Os métodos da loucura, o patético e a tristeza,
Deus ajude a todos, os insanos e sábios.
O preto e o branco, a escuridão da noite,
Só vejo fumaça das chaminés subindo.
O piloto voou por todo o céu e me acordou.
Ele voou solo no mar de mercúrio.
O sonho voltou, tudo sobre os altos povos marrons,
O sagrado jovem rebanho na areia de fósforo.