9/14/2011


 "THE BUTTERFLY MAN" ARENA

He waits in the dark for lives, misguided and wrecked
The catcher of innocent souls
He's proud of his human collection
Of losers who give up the chase
Of winners who fail to look round
He creeps up behind the fallen and blind
They're gone! With hardly a sound
'Save me - somebody reach out a hand
Save me from eternity caught in the grip of
The Butterfly Man'

He waits in the dark for the scent of anger or hate
He hides behind ignorance
And it's never for long that he has to wait
A gentle caress
Is enough before fear takes a hold
The warning signs come far too late
By then he'll have captured your soul

'Save me - somebody reach out a hand
Save me from the agony caught in the grip of
The Butterfly Man'

'Save me - somebody reach out a hand
Save me from eternity caught in the grip of
The Butterfly Man'

'I've been here for so long
Don't even know what my purpose ever was
I don't even know where I belong
Through the years I've been waiting
Even time has lost it's meaning
Don't even know where I belong'

'Can't ever turn from this path
Don't even know what alternatives there are
Perhaps I wandered too far
I've been here for so long
Don't even hope for an end to all of this
I have no choice, but to carry on'

There you are fighting to escape from the womb
Dying in the snares of your chosen beliefs
Were you not set free far too soon?
There you are bathing in the warmth of creation
Drowning in the blood of your chosen beliefs
Prisoners of fate
Living in a state of sedation

'Save me - somebody reach out a hand  - He waits in the dark for lives, misguided and wrecked
The catcher of innocent souls
He's proud of his human collection
Of losers who give up the chase
Of winners who fail to look round
He creeps up behind the fallen and blind
They're gone! With hardly a sound
'Save me - somebody reach out a hand
Save me from eternity caught in the grip of
The Butterfly Man'

He waits in the dark for the scent of anger or hate
He hides behind ignorance
And it's never for long that he has to wait
A gentle caress
Is enough before fear takes a hold
The warning signs come far too late
By then he'll have captured your soul

'Save me - somebody reach out a hand
Save me from the agony caught in the grip of
The Butterfly Man'

'Save me - somebody reach out a hand
Save me from eternity caught in the grip of
The Butterfly Man'

'I've been here for so long
Don't even know what my purpose ever was
I don't even know where I belong
Through the years I've been waiting
Even time has lost it's meaning
Don't even know where I belong'

'Can't ever turn from this path
Don't even know what alternatives there are
Perhaps I wandered too far
I've been here for so long
Don't even hope for an end to all of this
I have no choice, but to carry on'

There you are fighting to escape from the womb
Dying in the snares of your chosen beliefs
Were you not set free far too soon?
There you are bathing in the warmth of creation
Drowning in the blood of your chosen beliefs
Prisoners of fate
Living in a state of sedation

'Save me - somebody reach out a hand 
'Save me - somebody reach out a hand
Save me from eternity caught in the grip of
The Butterfly Man'

He waits in the dark
The catcher of elegant souls
Extravagant souls
Belligerent souls

He waits in the dark
His arms open wide
Never too short
Never too tall
He'll take them all
'Save me - somebody reach out a hand  - SALVENME, ALGUIEN DE UNA MANO
Save me from eternity caught in the grip of - SALVENME DE LA ETERNA AGONIA DEL GANCHO
The Butterfly Man'  - DEL HOMBRE MARIPOSA

He waits in the dark
The catcher of elegant souls
Extravagant souls
Belligerent souls

He waits in the dark
His arms open wide
Never too short
Never too tall
He'll take them all

1 comentario:

rh dijo...

Recuerdo una vieja conversación. Una conversación de hace algo más de treinta años. Lo que no recuerdo era de quíen provenía la idea, pero ésta consistía más o menos en que podríamos pensar que el concepto de "resurrección de los muertos" no fuera el convencional explicado por la iglesia, sino el que todos aquellos que viven de forma errónea un buen día se dieran cuenta y comenzaran a hacer las cosas de otra forma. Una resurrección individual salva una vida, porque convierte en vida lo que era hasta entonces una especie de vegetación entre una estructura de mecanismos con poco sentido (una especie de muerte, una vida en estado de sedación). Una resurrección colectiva, en cambio, haría de esa suma de resurrecciones individuales un estado utópico, una suerte de paraíso imposible.
Esta idea es una de esas que tal vez (o seguro) no te llevan a ninguna parte pero que quizá te atrapen un momento. Lo suficiente como para hacerte pensar un rato y quedar indelebles tras el paso de más de treinta años y apenas ninguna evocación.
Esta letra (al menos como he conseguido regularmente traducirla) me hace pensar en unas cuantas cosas y entre ellas, porque sino sería extensísimo, esta que te cuento. Después de la lectura una, dos, tres, cuatro veces, creo que tiene demasiadas paredes, demasiada oscuridad, y yo no digo que no existan, lo que pasa es que prefiero pensar en que nunca podremos dejar de sentir que en cierto modo todo es una travesía en solitario aunque no se esté solo. Una larga travesía sobre un enorme, gigantesco, campo deshabitado entre montañas. Allí donde desde el principio y hasta el final estamos con nosotros mismos y donde nos alcanzan sin remedio los vientos violentos y las nubes de tormenta, donde nos estremecen los fríos y donde también (claro está, porque aún seguimos respirando) percibimos también los brillos de días azules y de las noches tibias. Siempre hay alguna mano y creo que, aunque no la hubiera en algún momento, nunca podrá del todo el Butterfly Man.

R.
(tras unas largas vacaciones)