Rod McKuen - Flight Plan


THIS ONE DOES IT FOR ME! Click on the Stanyan logo to subscribe to the McKuen Mailing List		A Thought for Today Love carried to its highest point is simple anticipation. So too is fear. Here's a note I received in my mail box the other day. Hi Ken, My name is Luis Mariano. I am from Mexico. I wonder if it could be possible to get the original English lyrics of the song THE LOVERS by the gifted poet McKuen? I'm trying to get a Spanish translation that is suitable for singing and I have some doubts about the words just listening the record. Would you be so kind as to help me with this special request? Thanks in advance Luis Marianots. I sent Luis the lyrics under separate mail and a few days later was pleasantly surprised to receive the translation which I thought would be interesting for our readers to have sight of. Here's the Spanish version, as translated by Luis, and Rod's original English lyric. LOS AMANTES De las praderas del tedio de un mar de desilusión vienen hambrientos a cazar buscando un sortilegio oscuro se van de caza al bulevar con la esperanza de encontrar avanzan sobre un huracán viendo adelante y nunca atrás hacia el desvío y el engaño se creen así privilegiados como algo aparte y especial amantes, amantes de verdad...amantes Y cuando van de dos en dos se creen elenco del amor y aunque su lecho sea un pajar hay terciopelo en su mirar y así la noche es flor eterna guardando trecho y apariencias son algo aparte y especial amantes, amantes de verdad...amantes Y al partir el amor cuando se va... a-diós... algo en la garganta oprime llueve ahí en su corazón las dichas quedan pronto en el olvido y vuelven a cazar de tantas calles recorrer se les fatigan rostro y pies su piel sufriendo por tocar van a la luna a descansar su soledad crece hasta el cielo pero les llena de consuelo ser algo aparte y especial amantes, amantes de verdad...amantes Y al llegar el amor llega otra vez que tal... surge en la garganta un canto brisas en el corazón las dichas vienen junto con extraños la vida está en paz ya no se esconden de la luz pudiendo así al tú por tú sin nada ya que avergonzar las faltas mutuas afrontar y aunque este vals nunca termina aparentar no perjudica ser uno aparte y especial amantes, amantes de verdad...amantes Thanks for an interesting and enlightening exercise, Luis. I just wish my Spanish was better than it is so I could appreciate all the hard work you put in. If you have a favorite McKuen song, poem or story you'd like to share with our readers, drop me a line at ken@mckuen.com and I'll make sure it gets an airing right here one Wednesday. - Ken, Johannesburg, February 6 Catch Rod McKuen Live! The Songs of Johnny Mercer - Luckman Arts Center, LA An Evening with Rod McKuen - B.B. King's Blues Club, NYC



		WAITANGI DAY (NZ) Claudio Arrau o Eva Braun o Tom Brokow o Aaron Burr o Natalie Cole o Fabian o Mike Farrell o Masaharu Fukuyama o Zsa Zsa Gabor o Gayle Hunnicutt o Mary Leakey o Bill Learning o John Lund o Patrick MacNee o Bob Marley o Christopher Marlowe o Louis Nizer o Ramon Novarro o Gigi Perreau o Ronald Reagan o Axl Rose o Babe Ruth o Rip Torn o Francois Truffaut o Michael Tucker o Mamie Van Doren

		Learning how to fly gets you more than off the ground. Bend the rule too often and you might have to scrap the plan. The runner who never stumbles enjoys his victory less.

THE LOVERS		Up from the pastures of boredom out from the sea of discontent they come in packs like hungry hounds the seekers of the dark enchantment. They haunt the boulevards and bars they pray to wishing wells and stars they ride the hurricane of hope not looking back but on they go toward the distance and deceiving and all the while they keep believing that they are special and apart the lovers, the lovers of the heart... the lovers. And when they pair off two by two they feel they are the chosen few and though their beds are made of straw they feel like velvet in the night and so the night is never ending it’s made of distance and pretending because they’re special and apart the lovers, the lovers of the heart... the lovers. And when love goes away and when goes... goodbye... catches in their throats like cotton rises in their hearts like rain the good times suddenly are all forgotten the hunt begins again. They search the subways and the streets their faces tired, like their feet their bodies aching to be warm and so they hide behind the moon their loneliness inside them growing but they take comfort in just knowing that they are special and apart the lovers, the lovers of the heart... the lovers. And when love comes again and when love comes hello... rises from their throats like singing catches in their hearts like wind the good things strangers in their arms are bringing makes life all right again. They turn their faces to the light no longer hiding in the night so unashamed and unafraid that they can face each other’s faults and though the waltz will have its ending there is no harm in just pretending that they are special and apart the lovers, the lovers of the heart... the lovers. - from the album "Rod Sings His Own", 1965

Birthday research by Wade Alexander o Poetry from the collection of Jay Hagan o Coordinated by Melinda Smith o Sound & Fury Dr. Eric Yeager o Webmaster Ken Blackie

Want to comment on today's Flight Plan?

Send e-mail to Rod McKuen or post a message at the Rod McKuen Message Center

home page today's flight plan flight plan archives search this site site map