Language: Russian
Greetings to visitors from Zaius Nation!
Another song here that's been hanging around for a while without me ever finding the occasion to post it, so I thought I'd toss it up here. It's one of my favorites. Elton John seems to mistranslate well, in general.
-Jessi
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It packed my bags yesterday, in the hour of preflight testing (9 AM).
I'll be high by then, in proportion to snakes.
I pass Earth; I pass my husbands.
It's so much lonelier, outside in space
on this timeless flight.
I'll think, "so that's gonna be a long, long time,"
to find touchdown brings me around again.
They aren't me: they think I'll be by a man. Who is the house --
oh. There are none, there are none; I'll be a man of the rocket.
Upward, here, the man of the rocket burns out his fuse independently.
Mars won't be the place to raise your little ones.
In actuality, it's cold, in proportion to hell,
and there's no one there. (It's necessary to raise them if they make you.)
I don't completely understand this science -- which
is valid. My 5 days: men, rockets, the work week,
the rockets, and the men.
I think, "so that will be there a long, long time."
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