The hosts of the show: Vladimir Ilinskiy, Olga Palna
The guests of the show: Lena Andrianova
Scarborough Fair/Canticle (Parsley, Sage, Rosemary and Thyme, 1966)
Are you going to Scarborough Fair: Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme. Remember me to one who lives there. She once was a true love of mine. On the side of a hill in the deep forest green. Tracing of sparrow on snow-crested brown. Blankets and bedclothes the child of the mountain Sleeps unaware of the clarion call. Tell her to make me a cambric shirt: Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme; Without no seams nor needle work, Then she'll be a true love of mine. On the side of a hill a sprinkling of leaves. Washes the grave with silvery tears. A soldier cleans and polishes a gun. Sleeps unaware of the clarion call. Tell her to find me an acre of land: Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme; Between the salt water and the sea strand, Then she'll be a true love of mine. War bellows blazing in scarlet battalions. General order their soldiers to kill. And to fight for a cause they've long ago forgotten. Tell her to reap it with a sickle of leather: Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme; And gather it all in a bunch of heather, Then she'll be a true love of mine.
The Dangling Conversation (Parsley, Sage, Rosemary and Thyme, 1966)
It's a still life water color, Of a now late afternoon, As the sun shines through the curtained lace And shadows wash the room. And we sit and drink our coffee Couched in our indifference, Like shells upon the shore You can hear the ocean roar In the dangling conversation And the superficial sighs, The borders of our lives. And you read your Emily Dickinson, And I my Robert Frost, And we note our place with bookmarkers That measure what we've lost. Like a poem poorly written We are verses out of rhythm, Couplets out of rhyme, In syncopated time And the dangled conversation And the superficial sighs, Are the borders of our lives. Yes, we speak of things that matter, With words that must be said, "Can analysis be worthwhile?" "Is the theater really dead?" And how the room is softly faded And I only kiss your shadow, I cannot feel your hand, You're a stranger now unto me Lost in the dangling conversation. And the superficial sighs, In the borders of our lives.
America (Bookends, 1968)
Let us be lovers, We'll marry our fortunes together. I've got some real estate Here in my bag. So we bought a pack of cigarettes, And Mrs. Wagner's pies, And walked off To look for America. "Kathy", I said, As we boarded a Greyhound in Pittsburgh, Michigan seems like a dream to me now. It took me four days To hitch-hike from Saginaw. "I've come to look for America." Laughing on the bus, Playing games with the faces, She said the man in the gabardine suit Was a spy. I said, "Be careful, His bow tie is really a camera." "Toss me a cigarette, I think there's one in my raincoat." We smoked the last one An hour ago. So I looked at the scenery, She read her magazine; And the moon rose over an open field. "Kathy, I'm lost", I said, Though I know she was sleeping. "I'm empty and aching and I don't know why." Counting the cars On the New Jersey Turnpike The've all come To look for America, All come to look for America, All come to look for America.
You Don't Know Where Your Interest Lies (Old Friends, 1997)
You don't know that you love me You don't know but I know that you do You may think you're above me, yeah What you think isn't always true Don't try to debate me, You should know that I'm womanly wise Still you try to manipulate me You don't know where your interest lies No, you don't know where your interest lies You don't begin to comprehend You're just a game I like to play You may think that we're friends all right But I won't let friendship get in my way, No, I won't let friendship get in my way, Indications indicate running the same riff will turn you around Obviously you're going to blow it, But you don't know it You don't know that you love me You don't know but I know that you do You may think that you're above me, yeah What you think isn't always true Don't try to debate me, You should know that I'm womanly wise Still you try to manipulate me You don't know where your interest lies No, you don't know where your interest
Bridge over Troubled Water (Bridge over Troubled Water, 1970)
When you're weary, feeling small, When tears are in your eyes, I will dry them all; I'm on your side. When times get rough And friends just can't be found, Like a bridge over troubled water I will lay me down. Like a bridge over troubled water I will lay me down. When you're down and out, When you're on the street, When evening falls so hard I will comfort you. I'll take your part. When darkness comes And pain is all around, Like a bridge over troubled water I will lay me down. Like a bridge over troubled water I will lay me down. Sail on silvergirl, Sail on by. Your time has come to shine. All your dreams are on their way. See how they shine. If you need a friend I'm sailing right behind. Like a bridge over troubled water I will ease your mind. Like a bridge over troubled water I will ease your mind.
The Boxer (Bridge over Troubled Water, 1970)
I am just a poor boy. Though my story's seldom told, I have squandered my resistance For a pocketful of mumbles, Such are promises All lies and jest Still, a man hears what he wants to hear And disregards the rest. When I left my home And my family, I was no more than a boy In the company of strangers In the quiet of the railway station, Running scared, Laying low, Seeking out the poorer quarters Where the ragged people go, Looking for the places Only they would know. Lie-la-lie... Asking only workman's wages I come looking for a job, But I get no offers, Just a come-on from the whores On Seventh Avenue I do declare, There were times when I was so lonesome I took some comfort there. Lie-la-lie... Then I'm laying out my winter clothes And wishing I was gone, Going home Where the New York City winters Aren't bleeding me, Leading me, Going home. In the clearing stands a boxer, And a fighter by his trade And he carries the reminders Of ev'ry glove that laid him down And cut him till he cried out In his anger and his shame, "I am leaving, I am leaving." But the fighter still remains Lie-la-lie...
My Little Town (Still Crazy After All These Years/Breakaway, 1975)
In my little town I grew up believ--ing God keeps His eye on us all And He used to lean upon me As I pledged allegiance to the wall Lord I recall My little town Coming home after school Flying my bike past the gates Of the factories My mom doing the laundry Hanging our shirts In the dirty breeze And after it rains There's a rainbow And all of the colors are black It's not that the colors aren't there It's just imagin-ation they lack Everything's the same Back in my little town Nothing but the dead and dying Back in my little town Nothing but the dead and dying Back in my little town In my little town I never meant nothin' I was just my fathers son Saving my money Dreaming of glory Twitching like a finger On the trigger of a gun Leaving nothing but the dead and dying Back in my little town Repeat and fade: Nothing but the dead and dying Back in my little town |