The Wind In The Willows все тексты (слова) песен, переводы, видео, клипы

I. THE RIVER BANK

The Mole had been working very hard all the morning, spring-cleaning his little home. First with brooms, then with dusters; then on ladders and steps and chairs, with a brush and a pail of whitewash; till he had dust in his throat and eyes, and splashes of whitewash all over his black fur, and an aching back and weary arms. Spring was moving in the air above and in the earth below and around him, penetrating even his dark and lowly little house with its spirit of divine discontent and longing. It was small wonder, then, that he suddenly flung down his brush on the floor, said 'Bother!' and 'O blow!' and also 'Hang spring-cleaning!' and bolted out of the house without even waiting to put on his coat. Something up above was calling him imperiously, and he made for the steep little tunnel which answered in his case to the gaveled carriage-drive owned by animals whose residences are nearer to the sun and air. So he scraped and scratched and scrabbled and scrooged and then he scrooged again and scrabbled and scratched and scraped, working busily with his little paws and muttering to himself, 'Up we go! Up we go!' till at last, pop! his snout came out into the sunlight, and he found himself rolling in the warm grass of a great meadow.

'This is fine!' he said to himself. 'This is better than whitewashing!' The sunshine struck hot on his fur, soft breezes caressed his heated brow, and after the seclusion of the cellarage he had lived in so long the carol of happy birds fell on his dulled hearing almost like a shout. Jumping off all his four legs at once, in the joy of living and the delight of spring without its cleaning, he pursued his way across the meadow till he reached the hedge on the further side.

'Hold up!' said an elderly rabbit at the gap. 'Sixpence for the privilege of passing by the private road!' He was bowled over in an instant by the impatient and contemptuous Mole, who trotted along the side of the hedge chaffing the other rabbits as they peeped hurriedly from their holes to see what the row was about. 'Onion-sauce! Onion-sauce!' he remarked jeeringly, and was gone before they could think of a thoroughly satisfactory reply. Then they all started grumbling at each other. 'How STUPID you are! Why didn't you tell him——' 'Well, why didn't YOU say——' 'You might have reminded him——' and so on, in the usual way; but, of course, it was then much too late, as is always the case.

First you see us, then you don't.
Now you hear us, now you won't.
It's our secret of survival in a very nasty world.

Now you feel us, now you can't.
Are we real? Perhaps we aren't.
It's our secret of survival in a very nasty world.
It's our secret of survival in a very nasty world.

What didn't you see and tell me what you're looking for what you're looking for did you see the colors changing did you find the magic key did you hear the music of the wind did you cry when joy appeared where were you last my friend and tell me where you spent the last few moments in your pocket
What did you see and tell me what you're looking for what you're looking for did you feel the texture of your breath did you lose the grasping hold that you had did you breathe the foggy morning did you feel the morning rain where were you last my friend and tell me where you spent the last few moments in your pocket
What did you see and tell me what you're looking for what you're looking for once waited morning's sun now waits the evening's evening's daughter soon you'll find that the storm of the night has led them through through this water soon you'll hear the gentle sound of flowing water playing all the songs taught by the wind and gypsy fires fading
What did you see and tell me what you're looking for what you're looking for what did you see and tell me what you're looking for what you're looking for what you're looking for

First you see us, then you don't.
Now you hear us, now you won't.
It's our secret of survival in a very nasty world.

Now you feel us, now you can't.
Are we real? Perhaps we aren't.
It's our secret of survival in a very nasty world.
It's our secret of survival in a very nasty world.