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Ludwig Von 88
New Orleans
New Orleans
Past like a dream a strange universe
Old unhealthy swamps, putrid fumes
Like a hot pearly night ©e of humid air
Crawling and intertwining in stormy heaviness
We are still left whistling, howling in the wind
Trails of jazz, of contiguous streets
They still remain for us, hollow shallows
Where the breath of sumptuous years tears up
Carried by the river, by a dead sun
Lumiè re diffuse and crazy dreamlike halo
In the deep humidity resonates a misty refrain
Carried by the song of an idle trumpet
Where a few old black people survivors are dying to an old tune
Friendly, fluid and fluctuating music
Repeated a thousand times, same playing, same smile
Throbing piano brightens up the time for a memory...