Judgement of the Moon and Stars (Ludwig's Tune) («For The Roses» 1972, tr.12)
No tongue in the bell And the fishwives yell But they might as well be mute So you get to keep the pictures That don't seem like much Cold white keys under your fingers Now you're thinking "That's no substitute It just don't do it Like the song of a warm warm body Loving your touch"
In the court they carve your legend With an apple in its jaw And the women that you wanted They get their laughs Long silk stockings On the bedposts of refinement You're too raw They think you're too raw It's the judgement of the moon and stars Your solitary path Draw yourself a bath Think what you'd like to have For supper Or take a walk A park A bridge A tree A river Revoked but not yet cancelled The gift goes on In silence In a bell jar Still a song
You've got to shake your fists at lightning now You've got to roar like forest fire You've got to spread your light like blazes All across the sky They're going to aim the hoses on you Show 'em you won't expire Not till you burn up every passion Not even when you die Come on now You've got to try If you're feeling contempt Well then you tell it If you're tired of the silent night Jesus well then you yell it Condemned to wires and hammers Strike every chord that you feel That broken trees And elephant ivories conceal