Представляем точный текст композиции "Hourglass" и глубже погружаем в смыслы творчества артиста Current 93 . Эта интерпретация слов песни помогает лучше понять смысл заложенный в композицию. Лирика «Hourglass» — это не просто строчки, а история, которую Current 93 передаёт через ритм и интонации. Изучайте переводы, оригинальные версии и толкования, чтобы раскрыть все грани этого трека.
Current 93 - "Hourglass"
Lyrics to Hourglass : My life is measurd by this glasse, this glass By all those little Sands that thorough passe See how they presse, see how they strive, which shall With greatest speed speed and greatest quicknesse fall See how they raise a little Mount, and then With their owne weight doe levell it agen. But then thhave all got thorough, they give ore Their nimble sliding downe, and move no more. Just such is man whose houres still forward run, Being almost finsht ere they are begun, So perfect nothings, such light blasts are we, That ere ware ought at all, we cease to be. Do what we will, our hasty minutes fly, And while we sleep what do we else but die' How transient are our Joyes, how short their days! They creepe on towards us, but flie away How stinging are our sorrows! where they gaine But the least footing there they will remaine How groundless are our hopes, how they deceive Our childish thoughts, and onely sorrow leave! How real are our feares! they blast us still, Stil rend us, still with gnawing passions fill; How senseless are our wishes, yet how great! With that toile we pursue them with that sweat! Yet most times for our hurts so small we see, Like Children crying for some mercurie, This gapes for Marriage, yet his fickle head Knows not what cares waite on a Marriage bed. This woves Virginity, yet knows not what Lonenesse, griefe, discontent, attends that state. Desires of wealth anothers wishes hold And yet how many have been choakd with Gold' This onely hunts for honour yet whop shall Ascend the higher, shall more wretched fall. This thirsts for knowledge, yet how is it bought' With many a sleeplesse night and racking though' This needs will travel, yet how dangers lay Most secret Ambuscados in the way' These triumph in their Beaty, though it shall Like a pluckt Rose or fading Little fall. Another hoasts strong armes, las Giants have by silly Dwarfes been dragd unto their grave. These ruffle in rich silke, though nere so gay. A well plumd Peacock is more gay thatn they. Poore man, what art! A Tennis ball of Errour, A ship of Glasse, tossd in a Sea of terrour, Issuing in blood and sorrow from the wombe, Crauling in tears and mounting to the tombe, How slippery are thy pathes, how sure thy fall, How art thou Nothing when thart most of all! [ Hourglass Lyrics ]
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