Неожиданно пробившей меня музыки пост
Вот это состояние, когда ваще не важно, что именно они там поют. Внутри где-то в спинном мозгу просыпается обезьяна и начинает радостно подпевать: "бум бум бабах, бум бум БАХ!!1"
В других новостях: состояние, когда собираешься ботать всю ночь, потому что завтра сдавать, но до пяти утра лазаешь по интернету, не открывая даже билеты. С тем же успехом можно было выспаться xDUPD: а, ну и для баланса - две песни, которые навсегда прописались в моем спинном мозгу именно благодаря текстам
потому что я уже давно хочу заставить их послушать некоторых хороших людей))Киплинг, ака abide the twin damnation: to fail and know we failThe careful text books measure
(Let all who build beware!)
The load, the shock, the pressure
Material can bear.
So, when the buckled girder
Lets down the grinding span,
The blame of loss, or murder,
Is laid upon the man.
Not on the Steel — the Man!
But in our daily dealing
With stone and steel, we find
The Gods have no such feeling
Of justice toward mankind.
To no set gauge they make us, —
For no laid course prepare —
In time o'ertake us
With loads we cannot bear.
Too merciless to bear.
The prudent text-books give it
In tables at the end —
The stress that shears a rivet
Or makes a tie-bar bend —
What traffic wrecks macadam —
What concrete should endure —
But we, poor Sons of Adam,
Have no such literature,
To warn us or make sure!
We hold all Earth to plunder —
All Time and Space as well —
Too wonder-stale to wonder
At each new miracle;
Till, in mid-illusion
Of Godhood 'neath our hand,
Falls multiple confusion
On all we did or planned.
The mighty works we planned.
We only of Creation
(How much luckier the bridge and rail!)
Abide the twin-damnation —
To fail and know we fail.
Yet we — by which sole token
We know we once were Gods —
Take shame in being broken
However great the odds —
The Burden or the Odds.
Oh, veiled and secret Power
Whose paths we seek in vain,
Be with us in our hour
Of overthrow and pain;
That we — by which sure token
We know thy ways are true —
In spite of being broken,
Or because of being broken,
Rise up and build anew.
Stand up and build anew!
одна из лучших треккерских песен на светеWhat manner of men are these that fly so free?
Not bound to any planet's rules
Not tied to blocks and herding tools
Not serving country-minded fools
Not chained to dust like me
What manner of men are these well known to stars?
Not limited to one tribe's land
Not fed by any one tribe's hand
A mountains where my border stand
Confined by prison bars
What manner of men are these who stand alone?
In all they do or say to me
The echo of the stars they see
Confirms that one could be so free
It gnaws me to the bone
What manner of men are these? I need to know
They fill my dreams with wondrous things
They give my soul impatient wings
They show me where my freedom springs
And I am called to go
And I am called to go