Sultans of swing

Los comienzos de los auténticos siempre son difíciles. Buscar la propia voz significa asumir lo que hay y lo que ha habido. Desoír los ecos, rastrear en uno mismo a base de bagaje e intuición. Aventar nuevas briznas de lo atesorado sin desfallecer ante una realidad que ignora lo que está naciendo hasta que lo ve volar.

La historia de esta canción es reveladora. 

Para muchos jóvenes de mi generación fue un soplo de brisa fresca.

No a la guerra

Brothers in arms

 

Brothers in arms

These mist covered mountains
Are a home now for me
But my home is the lowlands
And always will be
Some day you'll return to
Your valleys and your farms
And you'll no longer burn
To be brothers in arm

Through these fields of destruction
Baptism of fire
I've watched all your suffering
As the battles raged higher
And though they did hurt me so bad
In the fear and alarm
You did not desert me
My brothers in arms

There's so many different worlds
So many different suns
And we have just one world
But we live in different ones

Now the sun's gone to hell
And the moon's riding high
Let me bid you farewell
Every man has to die
But it's written in the starlight
And every line on your palm
We're fools to make war
On our brothers in arms