Alan Rickman все тексты (слова) песен, переводы, видео, клипы

Ее глаза на солнце не похожи,
Коралл краснее, чем ее уста,
Снег с грудью милой не одно и то же,
Из черных проволок ее коса.
Есть много роз пунцовых, белых, красных,
Но я не вижу их в ее чертах, -
Хоть благовоний много есть прекрасных,
Увы, но только не в ее устах.

О чем поёт Хилли Кристал -"Birds and the Bees"
Перевод Arirang

So a little bird, sitting on a tree,
Wanna to start a family,
And went twit, twit,
Twit, twit,
He were looking for a she.

"Вино - это солнечный свет, соединившийся с водой."
Это поэтическая мудрость итальянского физика, философа и астронома Галилео Галилея.
Всё начинается с почвы, лозы и винограда.
Запах виноградника, как первый вдох.
Он пробуждает память предков... что-то ...
... первобытное.
Скажем так - глубоко сокрытую...
... и возможно, подсознательную... часть моей души.

"You know, I look at you and it’s funny, you don’t remind me of myself exactly. But you remind me of a certain time. I remember what I used to think love was then; that it was like fireworks, the explosions, the highlights. But it's not. It’s time: to go through the seasons together through change through the ups and downs. To be able to look at your beloved in the eye and say: "We did that together as one. We chose each other above all others". That’s love. It’s unexplainable. It’s a secret that can only be known... once... you’ve done... the time."

Смотрю на тебя и странно... ты не похож на меня. Но ты напоминаешь мне меня в юности. Для меня любовь была фейерверком, взрывом, вспышкой. Так было. Сейчас нет. Нужно время, чтобы прожить вместе, преодолеть трудности, падения и взлеты, суметь посмотреть в преданные глаза и сказать: "Мы прошли всё это вместе. Мы нашли друг друга в толпе..." Только так. Это и есть любовь. Совершенно необъяснима, непонятна, осознается только со временем.

A SWEET disorder in the dress
Kindles in clothes a wantonness :
A lawn about the shoulders thrown
Into a fine distraction :
An erring lace which here and there
Enthrals the crimson stomacher :
A cuff neglectful, and thereby
Ribbons to flow confusedly :

I look at you and it’s funny. You don’t remind me of myself exactly, but you remind me of a certain time. I remember what I used to think love was then. I thought it was the fireworks, the explosions, the highlights. But it’s not. It’s time. To go through the seasons together, through change, through the ups and downs, to be able to look your beloved in the eye and say: ‘We did that together, as one. We chose each other above all others'. That’s love. It’s unexplainable. It’s a secret that can only be known once you’ve done the time.

"But, as he walked, King Arthur panted hard,
Like one that feels a nightmare on his bed
When all the house is mute. So sighed the King,
Muttering and murmuring at his ear, "Quick, quick!
I fear it is too late, and I shall die."
But the other swiftly strode from ridge to ridge,
Clothed with his breath, and looking, as he walked,
Larger than human on the frozen hills.

one there was a lonely silence, and not a spec of hope in sight
and every tiny bubble burst, on its journey to the light
but the spark of creation will flicker again
its a brand new era, about to begin

now you've been caught with console, and left out in the cold
evolution's been passing us by
with this potion in hand, we've been givin' the chance

В рассветный час,
В весенние наряды облачась,
Ликует флора, птицы и ручьи
Запели снова песни о любви,
Все радует влюбленый слух и глаз
В рассветный час.

В рассветный час

My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun;
Coral is far more red than her lips' red;
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.
I have seen roses damask'd, red and white,
But no such roses see I in her cheeks;
And in some perfumes is there more delight
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.

THE RETURN OF THE NATIVE
by Thomas Hardy
BOOK ONE — THE THREE WOMEN

1—A Face on Which Time Makes but Little Impression

A Saturday afternoon in November was approaching the time of twilight, and the vast tract of unenclosed wild known as Egdon Heath embrowned itself moment by moment. Overhead the hollow stretch of whitish cloud shutting out the sky was as a tent which had the whole heath for its floor.

The brilliant lights and sooty shades which struggled upon the skin and clothes of the persons standing round caused their lineaments and general contours to be drawn with Dureresque vigour and dash. Yet the permanent moral expression of each face it was impossible to discover, for as the nimble flames towered, nodded, and swooped through the surrounding air, the blots of shade and flakes of light upon the countenances of the group changed shape and position endlessly. All was unstable; quivering as leaves, evanescent as lightning. Shadowy eye-sockets, deep as those of a death's head, suddenly turned into pits of lustre: a lantern-jaw was cavernous, then it was shining; wrinkles were emphasized to ravines, or obliterated entirely by a changed ray. Nostrils were dark wells; sinews in old necks were gilt mouldings; things with no particular polish on them were glazed; bright objects, such as the tip of a furze-hook one of the men carried, were as glass; eyeballs glowed like little lanterns. Those whom Nature had depicted as merely quaint became grotesque, the grotesque became preternatural; for all was in extremity.

Hence it may be that the face of an old man, who had like others been called to the heights by the rising flames, was not really the mere nose and chin that it appeared to be, but an appreciable quantity of human countenance. He stood complacently sunning himself in the heat. With a speaker, or stake, he tossed the outlying scraps of fuel into the conflagration, looking at the midst of the pile, occasionally lifting his eyes to measure the height of the flame, or to follow the great sparks which rose with it and sailed away into darkness. The beaming sight, and the penetrating warmth, seemed to breed in him a cumulative cheerfulness, which soon amounted to delight. With his stick in his hand he began to jig a private minuet, a bunch of copper seals shining and swinging like a pendulum from under his waistcoat: he also began to sing, in the voice of a bee up a flue—
"The king' call'd down' his no-bles all',
By one', by two', by three';
Earl Mar'-shal, I'll' go shrive'-the queen',
And thou' shalt wend' with me'.

Not long after this a faint cry sounded from the interior. The reddleman hastened to the back, looked in, and came away again.

"You have a child there, my man?"

"No, sir, I have a woman."

"The deuce you have! Why did she cry out?"

The besom-maker turned to the left towards her own house, behind a spur of the hill, and Mrs. Yeobright followed the straight track, which further on joined the highway by the Quiet Woman Inn, whither she supposed her niece to have returned with Wildeve from their wedding at Anglebury that day.

She first reached Wildeve's Patch, as it was called, a plot of land redeemed from the heath, and after long and laborious years brought into cultivation. The man who had discovered that it could be tilled died of the labour; the man who succeeded him in possession ruined himself in fertilizing it. Wildeve came like Amerigo Vespucci, and received the honours due to those who had gone before.

When Mrs. Yeobright had drawn near to the inn, and was about to enter, she saw a horse and vehicle some two hundred yards beyond it, coming towards her, a man walking alongside with a lantern in his hand. It was soon evident that this was the reddleman who had inquired for her. Instead of entering the inn at once, she walked by it and towards the van.

The conveyance came close, and the man was about to pass her with little notice, when she turned to him and said, "I think you have been inquiring for me? I am Mrs. Yeobright of Blooms-End."

"How did she know your Christian name?" said Mrs. Yeobright doubtingly.

"I had met her as a lad before I went away in this trade. She asked then if she might ride, and then down she fell in a faint. I picked her up and put her in, and there she has been ever since. She has cried a good deal, but she has hardly spoke; all she has told me being that she was to have been married this morning. I tried to get her to eat something, but she couldn't; and at last she fell asleep."

"Let me see her at once," said Mrs. Yeobright, hastening towards the van.

The reddleman followed with the lantern, and, stepping up first, assisted Mrs. Yeobright to mount beside him. On the door being opened she perceived at the end of the van an extemporized couch, around which was hung apparently all the drapery that the reddleman possessed, to keep the occupant of the little couch from contact with the red materials of his trade. A young girl lay thereon, covered with a cloak. She was asleep, and the light of the lantern fell upon her features.

An ingenuous, transparent life was disclosed, as if the flow of her existence could be seen passing within her. She understood the scene in a moment.

"O yes, it is I, Aunt," she cried. "I know how frightened you are, and how you cannot believe it; but all the same, it is I who have come home like this!"

"Tamsin, Tamsin!" said Mrs. Yeobright, stooping over the young woman and kissing her. "O my dear girl!"

Thomasin was now on the verge of a sob, but by an unexpected self-command she uttered no sound. With a gentle panting breath she sat upright.

5—Perplexity among Honest People

Thomasin looked as if quite overcome by her aunt's change of manner. "It means just what it seems to mean: I am—not married," she replied faintly. "Excuse me—for humiliating you, Aunt, by this mishap—I am sorry for it. But I cannot help it."

"Me? Think of yourself first."

"It was nobody's fault. When we got there the parson wouldn't marry us because of some trifling irregularity in the license."

The lower half of his figure was of light build. Altogether he was one in whom no man would have seen anything to admire, and in whom no woman would have seen anything to dislike.

He discerned the young girl's form in the passage, and said, "Thomasin, then, has reached home. How could you leave me in that way, darling?" And turning to Mrs. Yeobright—"It was useless to argue with her. She would go, and go alone."

"But what's the meaning of it all?" demanded Mrs. Yeobright haughtily.

"Take a seat," said Wildeve, placing chairs for the two women. "Well, it was a very stupid mistake, but such mistakes will happen. The license was useless at Anglebury. It was made out for Budmouth, but as I didn't read it I wasn't aware of that."

Across the upper part of her head she wore a thin fillet of black velvet, restraining the luxuriance of her shady hair, in a way which added much to this class of majesty by irregularly clouding her forehead. "Nothing can embellish a beautiful face more than a narrow band drawn over the brow," says Richter. Some of the neighbouring girls wore coloured ribbon for the same purpose, and sported metallic ornaments elsewhere; but if anyone suggested coloured ribbon and metallic ornaments to Eustacia Vye she laughed and went on.

Why did a woman of this sort live on Egdon Heath? Budmouth was her native place, a fashionable seaside resort at that date. She was the daughter of the bandmaster of a regiment which had been quartered there—a Corfiote by birth, and a fine musician—who met his future wife during her trip thither with her father the captain, a man of good family. The marriage was scarcely in accord with the old man's wishes, for the bandmaster's pockets were as light as his occupation. But the musician did his best; adopted his wife's name, made England permanently his home, took great trouble with his child's education, the expenses of which were defrayed by the grandfather, and throve as the chief local musician till her mother's death, when he left off thriving, drank, and died also. The girl was left to the care of her grandfather, who, since three of his ribs became broken in a shipwreck, had lived in this airy perch on Egdon, a spot which had taken his fancy because the house was to be had for next to nothing, and because a remote blue tinge on the horizon between the hills, visible from the cottage door, was traditionally believed to be the English Channel. She hated the change; she felt like one banished; but here she was forced to abide.

Thus it happened that in Eustacia's brain were juxtaposed the strangest assortment of ideas, from old time and from new. There was no middle distance in her perspective—romantic recollections of sunny afternoons on an esplanade, with military bands, officers, and gallants around, stood like gilded letters upon the dark tablet of surrounding Egdon. Every bizarre effect that could result from the random intertwining of watering-place glitter with the grand solemnity of a heath, was to be found in her. Seeing nothing of human life now, she imagined all the more of what she had seen.

Night
And the spirit of life
Calling

Oh, oh, iyo
Mamela [Listen]
Oh, oh, iyo

Пару недель назад Рикман получил награду Variety Club Award (за роль Эллиота). На церемонии награждения в зале так же присутствовал Дэниэл Рэдклифф.

Благодарственная речь Рикмана звучала так (он говорил ее после своей партнерши, которая тоже получила эту награду):

"В спектакле Эллиот мечется за сценой, чтобы выйти на сцену после Аманды (ее играет Линдси Дункан) и совершенно не знает, что сказать. Так что в жизни, как и в искусстве. (Легкий смех в зале) Спасибо огромное за награду. Это большая честь… Мы отправляемся с этой пьесой в Нью-Йорк в апреле, поэтому награда поедет с нами как очень нужный талисман удачи И… . (люди собрались аплодировать)… с тобой мы еще увидимся, Поттер (дикий смех в зале)".