Procol Harum - A Whiter Shade of Pale

Зачем нам пляски с бубенцами?
Со стрихнином - эскимо?
Я был болен - только Вами.
А толпа - ей всё равно -
хохотала и бухала
так, что даже потолок,
как дрезина от вокзала,
сам себя и уволок.

А мотылёк - бантом на шее -
нам рассказывает сны.
Ты становишься бледнее
отражения Луны.

Ты сказала, что ты - дома,
a до дома - плыть да плыть.
Отражение знакомо? -
Не запить и не забыть...
Моя бледная русалка,
заморочив Нептуна,
улыбнулась грустно, жалко,
и хватило - на меня.

А мотыльки - летели к свету
и кружились на свету,
нам рассказывая эту
сказку. Эту или ту…

И теперь, пыльцой играя,
меня лечат от тоски.
Но нет тебя и в этом в мае…
Только май и мотыльки.


========================

We skipped the light fandango
Turned cartwheels 'cross the floor
I was feeling kind a seasick
But the crowd called out for more
The room was humming harder
As the ceiling flew away
When we called out for another drink
The waiter brought a tray

And so it was that later
As the miller told his tale
That her face, at first just ghostly,
Turned a whiter shade of pale

She said, I'm home on shore leave,
Though in truth we were at sea
So I took her by the looking glass
And forced her to agree
Saying, you must be the mermaid
Who took Neptune for a ride.
But she smiled at me so sadly
That my anger straightway died

And so it was that later
As the miller told his tale
That her face, at first just ghostly,
Turned a whiter shade of pale

And so it was that later
As the miller told his tale
That her face, at first just ghostly,
Turned a whiter shade of pale


Songwriters: Keith Reid / Gary Brooker


youtube.com/watch?v=wcgveLncYQw