His star clothes with his tee-shirt of Peace,
His Mike sets up aches,
His farmer Larry has the thick back,
His yellow ribbon feels the Cuttings
Who destroy themselves with the video game,
Gone to ground far too far from their roots.
We harden many ideals,
Because, here, this evening, Neil Young vaccinates
To his heart's content. He takes care of us.
Biting his rock'n'roll, his crazy virulent rage
Spreads in ourselves.
The active serum breaks defences.
The acquired audience dances, applauds
The insane fury which is inoculated
By this real rock musician always original
In his melodies which are sometimes well-worn.
The crime receives the foot of the rebel;
Our alert senses appreciate this fist.
Ralph, barricaded behind his pans,
Remains stoical and gets points.
The slow and very basic roads
Drift under the tears of breeze and fog,
See Humanity that is so solitary
With some specimens with nasal tone.
The rich valley of fawn notes,
Which are collected gilded or rusted,
Delights gourmets. This love saves
The fervour of the nights that are often leafless.
When this girl changes us
In such thoughtful subject, life innovates
In the chalet where the eye undulates the object
Of this harsh joy of the mangrove swamp.
Far from the soft dinghy, the hovercraft
Roars - these engines! - and drums
The lucky dreamer, and bites the thinker,
And, boiling, eats into the tangerine.
For ten thousand islands to fertilize well,
An explorer must stretch
The road of time to roam
On the seconds, to go surfing, to be delirious.
There - in Miami - the prospector live
The savour of a step on the wilds.
This union grows the being who survives.
The joy explodes all seams
Until forgetting the three companions
In order to seek after complicity,
Inviting us, as well grumpies,
To give up the begging.
Farmer Larry plays the scarecrow,
Beating the Old Black spirit, or
Is it the rite inviting the Range?
Hearts and guts, like little girl who...
...Canít wait, go, once more,
In a lost body of a crazy joker.
Blue stars run on our heads,
On our cheeks dry their small sisters.
Dispersed fog, the named horse
Gives kicks to the ambient fury,
Stretches its rhythmical legs
Towards neighs, whirlings.
Farmer Larry brings it into the shed,
Covered only partially the high outputs
Because the darkened sky gets nearer,
Whistling, which soaks in the antipathy.
However, the one way restraining it
Is to impress it. To throw it water,
It doesnít water it. This nerve, which bound
This horse, is well crowned by garlics.
Billy takes sun, Ralph nails the rainbow,
Poncho, attentive, suspends his guitar,
And Neil shows him the bird in the sky.
All of them get into insane hectares.
The powder shakes the way in breath,
The dry barbed wires are uprooted,
Strong nostrils grind, and the wind gets out of breath.
The farandole dissolves in rebel way.
The dove sleeps on its lullaby.
Fires on the wire will be packed-up.
Two hours of clapping snaps
Tousled my anaemic cheeks.
Denis Between The Rusty Words.
© IDDN 2005
Note: Yellow ribbons are popular in the USA, during the war of the Gulf, to "bring the troops home safe" or "we love our troops" or "those who don't display said ribbons are on the side of the enemy" depending on the feelings of the person who ties one on. For this war, we've gone high tech. The ribbons have been made into magnets so people can wear them on their cars, usually foreign made. (John G.)