Friday, February 12, 2010

Darwin! - L'evoluzione



A beautiful and charming song by the Italian progressive rock band, Banco del Mutuo Soccorso.

Thanks to Hellspirit who helped to translate those fascinating lyrics into English:

Try, try to think a little different
Nothing was manufactured by great gods
But the Creation created itself
Cells, fibres, energy and heat.
Spins inside a cloud the Earth
Swollen in warmth it stretches its limbs.
Ah the mother is ready, she will give birth
Already she arches her womb
She wants a child and she will have it
Son of soil and electricity.
Grey layers of lava and coral
Humid and colourless skies
Here: the World is breathing
Mosses and lichens, green sponges of soil
Are the greenhouse of the sprout that will come.

The sea vomits shapeless beings
Pushed out in clots on putrid shores
The land hosts the muddy herds
Crawling they pass on their likes
And the time will change the flabby bodies
Into shapes useful to survive.
A wretched sun dissolves the green
Among young ferns loaded of spores
And free sounds move in circle
Acoustic spirals in the virgin air.
And I stupid still believe
Who tells me that flesh is dust.

And if in the fossil of an atavistic skull
I rediscover shapes that are similar to me
Then Adam can't anymore exist
And only seven days are few to create
And now tell me if my genesis
was of other men or Quadrumana

Adam is dead by now and my genesis
is not of men but Quadrumana.

High, making arabesques a halcyon
Squeaks over the gorses and the sea
Now the sun knows whom to warm.


PS Aargh, the last part is not included in the clip. The full song is here.

Enjoy the Day!

1 comment:

Hellspirit said...

Thank you! I'm italian, but I didn't knew this song... no surprise, we're practically ruled by the Vatican :(

Here's the lyrics in english:

Try, try to think a little different
Nothing was manifactured by great gods
But the Creation created itself
Cells, fibres, energy and heat.
Spins inside a cloud the Earth
Swollen in warmth it stretches its limbs.
Ah the mother is ready, she will give birth
Already she arches her womb
She wants a child and she will have it
Son of soil and electricity.
Grey layers of lava and coral
Humid and colourless skies
Here: the World is breathing
Mosses and lichens, green sponges of soil
Are the greenhouse of the sprout that will come.

The sea vomits shapeless beings
Pushed out in clots on putrid shores
The land hosts the muddy herds
Crawling they pass on their likes
And the time will change the flabby bodies
Into shapes useful to survive.
A wretched sun dissolves the green
Among young ferns loaded of spores
And free sounds move in circle
Acoustic spirals in the virgin air.
And I stupid still believe
Who tells me that flesh is dust.

And if in the fossil of an atavistic skull
I rediscover shapes that are similar to me
Then Adam can't anymore exist
And only seven days are few to create
And now tell me if my genesis
was of other men or Quadrumana

Adam is dead by now and my genesis
is not of men but Quadrumana.

High, making arabesques a halcyon
Squeaks over the gorses and the sea
Now the sun knows whom to warm.

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