Я обрёл бога в Африке: письма русского буш-хирурга

)

Вот так…

A song from a jewish arab (from Jorge Dexter an Uruguayan and Jewish singer)

for any western wall a cry

in the golden jerusalem

and thousand lives wasted

for every commandment

I am dust from your wind

and although I bleed from your wound

and any beloved stone

keep my deepest love

there is no stone in the world

which worth a life

I am a jewish arab

who lives beetween christians

I do not know which god is mine

nor who my brothers are

there is no death that did not hurt me

there is no a winning side

there is no more than pain

and another life who is gone

the war is a terrible school

it does not matter which costume wear

Pardon me if I do not choose any flag

any illusion is worth more

than a piece of a sad cloth

and I give no license to any body

to kill on my behalf

a man is no more than a man

and if there is a god, he said that

the same soil I step on today

It will stay when I am gone

there is also no doctrine

which spares the oblivion

and there is no nation

which believes It is not the chosen one.

-– Original Message –

From: Luis Taroco

To: SURGINET@LISTSERV.UTORONTO.CA

Sent: Tuesday, August 1, 2006 8:10:18 PM

Subject: «MILONGA DE UN MORO JUDIO"– J.DREXLER

Hi all:

May be some friends who speak and write english better than me, are interested in translate this song of Jorge Drexler.

I believe that this song reflect the feelings of the majority of us.

    Regards. Luis

`MILONGA DE UN MORO JUD?O

de Jorge Drexler, el uruguayo y jud?o cantautor.

Por cada muro un lamento

en Jerusalеn la dorada

y mil vidas malgastadas

por cada mandamiento.

Yo soy polvo de tu viento

y aunque sangro de tu herida,

y cada piedra querida

guarda mi amor mаs profundo,

no hay una piedra en el mundo

que valga lo que una vida.

Yo soy un moro jud?o

que vive con los cristianos,

no sе que Dios es el m?o

ni cuales son mis hermanos.

No hay muerto que no me duela,

no hay un bando ganador,

no hay nada mаs que dolor

y otra vida que se vuela.

La guerra es muy mala escuela

no importa el disfraz que viste,

perdonen que no me aliste

bajo ninguna bandera,

vale mаs cualquier quimera

que un trozo de tela triste.