به کجا چنین شتابان؟
گون از نسیم پرسید
دل من گرفته زینجا , هوس سفر نداری؟
ز غبار این بیابان؟
همه آرزویم اما.... چه کنم که بسته پایم....
به کجا چنین شتابان؟
به هر آن کجا که باشد بجز این سرا سرایم
سفرت به خیر اما تو و دوستی خدا را
چو از این کویر وحشت به سلامتی گذشتی
به شکوفه ها به باران
برسان سلام ما را
In the early morning rain
With a dollar in my hand
With an achin in my heart
And my pockets full of sand
Im a long way from home
And I miss my loved ones so
In the early morning rain
With no place to go
Out on runway number nine
Big seven-o-seven set to go
But Im stuck here in the grass
Where the pavement never grows
Now the liquor tasted good
And the women all were fast
Well there she goes my friend
Well shes rollin down at last
Hear the mighty engines roar
See the silver bird on high
Shes away and westward bound
Far above the clouds shell fly
Where the mornin rain dont fall
And the sun always shines
Shell be flyin oer my home
In about three hours time
This old airports got me down
Its no earthly good to me
cause Im stuck here on the ground
As cold and drunk as I can be
You cant jump a jet plane
Like you can a freight train
So Id best be on my way
In the early morning rain
You cant jump a jet plane
Like you can a freight train
So Id best be on my way
In the early morning rain
--
Peter Paul & Mary, Blowing
in the wind
How many roads must a man walk down
Before they call him a man?
How many seas must a white dove sail
Before she sleeps in the sand?
How many times must the cannonballs fly
Before they're forever banned?
The answer, my friend, is blowing in the wind
The answer is blowing in the wind.
How many years must a mountain exist
Before it is washed to the sea?
How many years can some people exist
Before they're allowed to be free?
How many times can a man turn his head
and pretend that he just doesn't see?
The answer, my friend, is blowing in the wind
The answer is blowing in the wind.
How many times must a man look up
Before he can see the sky?
How many ears must one man have
Before he can hear people cry?
How many deaths will it take till he knows
That too many people have died?
The answer, my friend, is blowing in the wind
The answer is blowing in the wind.
---
Peter Paul & Mary, In
the early morning
Well early in the morning, about the break of day
I ask the Lord, Help me find the way
Help me find the way to the promised land
This lonely body needs a helping hand
I ask the Lord to help me please find the way
When the new day's a dawning, I bow my head in prayer I pray to the Lord, Won't
you lead me there
Won't you guide me safely to the Golden Stair
Won't you let this body your burden share
I pray to the Lord, Won't you lead me
please, lead me there
When the judgment comes to find the world in shame
When the trumpet blows won't you call my name
When the thunder rolls and the heavens rain
When the sun turns black, never shine again
When the trumpet blows, won't you call me please, call my name
(Paul Stookey) -----------------------------
Paul Simon, The boxer
I am just a poor boy, though my story is seldom
told
I have squandered my resistance
For a pocketful of mumbles, such are promises
All lies and jest
Still a man hears what he wants to hear and disregards the rest
When I left my home and my family I was no more than a boy
In the company of strangers
In the quiet of the railway station, runnin' scared
Laying low, seeking out the poorer quarters
Where the ragged people go
Lookin' for the places, only they would know
Asking only workman's wages I come lookin' for a job
But I get no offers
Just a come-on from the whores on Seventh Avenue
I do declare there were times when I was so lonesome
I took some comfort there
And I’m laying out my winter clothes, and wishing I was gone, goin’ home
Where the new york city winters aren’t bleedin’ me, leadin’ me goin' home
In the clearing stands a boxer and a fighter by his trade
And he carries the reminders of every glove that laid him down
Or cut him 'til he cried out in his anger and his shame
"I am leaving, I am leaving"
But the fighter still remains, still remains
