varð að setja þetta hérna....ótrúlegur listamaður hér á ferð....svona á að performa...túlkunin, röddinn, tilfinningin.....shiiiiitttt ég er með hroll
verðið eiginlega að lesa textan fyrst til að gera ykkur grein fyrir laginu:
Strange Fruits by
Abel Meeropol, birt undir Lewis Alan
Southern trees bear strange fruit,
Blood on the leaves and blood at the root,
Black bodies swinging in the southern breeze,
Strange fruit hanging from the poplar trees.
Pastoral scene of the gallant south,
The bulging eyes and the twisted mouth,
Scent of magnolias, sweet and fresh,
Then the sudden smell of burning flesh.
Here is fruit for the crows to pluck,
For the rain to gather, for the wind to suck,
For the sun to rot, for the trees to drop,
Here is a strange and bitter crop.
Horfiði svo á þetta:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h4ZyuULy9zs&feature=related
Lady Kris