Contactez-nous

• Artiste: Robert Wyatt
• Titre: Forest
Assurez-vous que les corrections sont tout à fait exactes
S'il vous plaît, les mettez en évidence en quelque sorte!
Vous pouvez, par exemple, écrire
INCORRECT: avant la mauvaise ligne
CORRECT: avant la correspondant ligne correcte
Autrement, nous ne pouvons les corriger pas! Merci pour votre aide.
Deep in the forest the omens are bad, a cloud passes over the moon Devil Wind bends the trees, a cloud passes over the moon. And the moon takes a peep when the Gypsy girl sings, and her song rises up from the dark to the light, like smoke to the sky, when the Gypsy girl sings at the river's edge. Deep in the forest the omens are bad, a cloud passes over the moon. White wolf waits, grey wolf howls at the girl by the river's edge. The bullet head boys with their baby blue eyes, their donner und blitzen, the lily white gadje religiously hatching their plots in the eyries of eagles. But the moon's keeping watch at the Gypsy girl sings, sees her song rising up like smoke to the sky from the dark to the light, when the Gypsy girl sings at the river's edge. Like the sun on the forest her song rises up, from the ashes of Auschwitz, the death camp at Lety, the white cliffs of Dover, the song of the Roma lives on and on... Trees grow tall though the winds blow cold, tall trees grow. Tall trees grow where the cold wind blow, trees grow tall.