Chaplin [English translation]
Chaplin [English translation]
He'd calibrate his gestures precisely
drawing his own stare with a charcoal stick
and a silent smile.
He rehearsed each motion
with the skill of someone who never had to learn
and with exactness.
Like an idea that gets entangled into his hair,
he flips over his tie, and tightens the knots
of a tiny tragicomic mustache.
From there onward, all of that now seems universal
from the cot to the last sun ray
chasing the plains.
From behind his old hat the inventor of laughter says nothing,
just whips out a stick from his sleeve,
makes balancing acts like us all.
He'd walk with dream-painted strides
with the rush of someone running without knowing where
while entangling the thread.
He'd emphasize every single snowflake,
he'd stomp on celluloids with his feet
with his great style.
When the submarine orchestra takes flight
words are superfluous as penguins are dancing.
Such scenes that in three, two, one... we too are thrown in.
From there onward, all of that now seems universal
from the cot to the last sun ray
chasing the plains.
From behind his old hat the inventor of laughter says nothing,
just whips out a stick from his sleeve,
makes balancing acts like us all.
From there onward, all of that now seems universal
from the cot to the last sun ray
chasing the plains.
From behind his old hat the inventor of laughter says nothing,
just whips out a stick from his sleeve,
makes balancing acts like us all.
Memories of Charles!
- Artist:Blaumut
- Album:Equilibri