Blasphemous Rumours by Depeche Mode

БОГОХУЛЬНЫЕ РЕЧИ (эквиритмический перевод Анны Лерман)

Целая жизнь, девочке шестнадцать лет,
У неё порезы на руках.
В жизни – провал, славен Господь
За малую милость.

Слёзы на глазах, вновь читает мать письмо,
Разум в свете шестнадцати свечей.
Себя виня, день ото дня
Стоит пред ликом, вновь молясь.

Я не завожу богохульные речи,
Но Господь – шутник, нравственно изувеченный.
Умерев, я услышу смех
На небе.

Я не завожу богохульные речи,
Но Господь – шутник, нравственно изувеченный.
Умерев, я услышу смех
На небе.

Мир любим ей – ей лишь восемнадцать лет,
Обрела себя в Христе.
Сбита авто, кончен срок,
Нужен жизни ей глоток.

В летний день мир покинут ей,
Птичий щебет в синих небесах.
И грянул гром, гром с дождём
Из слёз у матери в глазах.

Я не завожу богохульные речи,
Но Господь – шутник, нравственно изувеченный.
Умерев, я услышу смех
На небе.

Я не завожу богохульные речи,
Но Господь – шутник, нравственно изувеченный.
Умерев, я услышу смех
На небе.

ORIGINAL LYRICS (WRITTEN BY MARTIN GORE):

Girl of sixteen, whole life ahead of her
Slashed her wrists, bored with life
Didn't succeed, thank the Lord
For small mercies.

Fighting back the tears, mother reads the note again
Sixteen candles burn in her mind
She takes the blame, it's always the same
She goes down on her knees and prays.

I don't want to start any blasphemous rumours
But I think that God's got a sick sense of humour
And when I die, I expect to find him laughing

I don't want to start any blasphemous rumours
But I think that God's got a sick sense of humour
And when I die, I expect to find him laughing

Girl of eighteen, fell in love with everything
Found new life in Jesus Christ
Hit by a car, ended up
On a life support machine

Summer's day as she passed away
Birds were singing in the summer sky
Then came the rain and once again
A tear fell from her mother's eye

I don't want to start any blasphemous rumours
But I think that God's got a sick sense of humour
And when I die, I expect to find him laughing
I don't want to start any blasphemous rumours
But I think that God's got a sick sense of humour
And when I die, I expect to find him laughing
I don't want to start any blasphemous rumours
But I think that God's got a sick sense of humour
And when I die, I expect to find him laughing
I don't want to start any blasphemous rumours
But I think that God's got a sick sense of humour
And when I die, I expect to find him laughing
I don't want to start any blasphemous rumours
But I think that God's got a sick sense of humour
And when I die, I expect to find him laughing