Fare Thee Well Britannia

Fare Thee Well Britannia
О том, как я потерял свой кембриджский акцент, которым гордился всю жизнь. А может, о чем-то большем.

------------------------------------
Fare Thee Well Britannia

We’ve been together for 9 bloody years. Or, perhaps, even more; oh my memory, the ever-lying traitor. I was so proud of caressing the whole Albion with my speech; it was like standing on a high rock, some numb and ancient grey stone towering above the endless magic clover fields. The sound of this speech was music in my ears. My lost song, the last far and ghostly cry in the fog. Bye Britannia. Fare thee well.

Ya know, I was feeling indignant when some foreign folks felt it hard to understand me; and yet they felt so easy when my good lady was joking with them, enjoying her harsh and unmatchable pronunciation inspired by stuffy Southern states, the heavy air of New Orleans, the red spaces of Utah, the damned roads of Nevada. Southern accents are such a disaster. And yet the folks understood her… while keeping looking at me with those eyes wide open.

And I was speaking like a lad who spent all his childhood hiding between your mossy rocks, looking for the souls chained to the ancient castle walls, listening to old songs on the festivals in the open air when people keep smiling in the rain even when it already threatens to turn into some icy mess falling from heaven. I was your son. Even despite the fact that I’ve never seen you, and none of my ancestors was born in your ominous emerald-shadowed woods.

So I am losing you now. It feels like forgetting some vague but important spell – it just slides down my tongue, and flies away like a dream before the new dawn.

My new dawn is born from the heat-trembling air over the dusty road in the desert. If I am lucky, this road will lead me to the Pacific. But it won’t be a dialogue between a human being and a vast salty water space. I am seduced by the city, that crowded, dangerous, sticky, dirty and sparkling city whose feverish heartbeat sets the fashion to the entire Golden State.

I will forget you soon – as easily as I lost the gift to speak like a true English-born guy. But yet, thank you so much – for everything I was enjoying and just lost with this delightful ease.

Fare thee well Britannia. My dreams are riding to L. A.
Музыка (автор, композиция):
Музыка: Neil Young - Battleme version - Instrumental Cover, начитка: Винс
+3
01:25
223
RSS
10:59
+2

Приятная, очень поэтическая проза. Своеобразное прощание с прошлым и надежды на будущее. Не важно, пишешь ты на русском или английском — тебе удаётся удержать эту тонкую лирическую струнку, наполнить текст теплом души.



Начитка хорошая, правда качество записи хромает. Думаю, стоит перезаписать позже, в лучших условиях.

13:49
+1

А я рад, что ты первый почитал-послушал, Вит) Я же совсем билингва, думаю и чувствую на двух языках (на испанском изредка).

Вот так и поставил точку, и рванул туда, где живет душа. Обожаю ветер перемен — он бодрит лучше всех!

Спойлер

13:03
+1

Ух, Винс!

Здесь, да — твой новый рассвет рожден от трепетного воздуха…

Впечатляющие строки! Трогательная начитка, с элементами грусти и осознания!

Красиво! Плюсище, канеш!

13:55
+1

Спасибо, Кошенька! Вот самые мои близкие товарищи посмотрели на удаляющийся берег вместе со мной… Все меняется так быстро

Спойлер
, а я рад, что смог ухватить такой момент тишины.

14:15
+1

Спойлер

14:19
+1

Спойлер

14:36
+1

Спойлер

Загрузка...