HEAVY HORSES | Тesto e Тraduzione (al clic)

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Iron-clad feather-feet pounding the dust

An October's day, towards evening

Sweat embossed veins standing proud to the plough

Salt on a deep chest seasoning

Last of the line at an honest day's toil

Turning the deep sod under

Flint at the fetlock, chasing the bone

Flies at the nostrils plunder.

The Suffolk, the Clydesdale, the Percheron vie

with the Shire on his feathers floating

Hauling soft timber into the dusk

to bed on a warm straw coating.

Heavy Horses, move the land under me

Behind the plough gliding --- slipping and sliding free

Now you're down to the few

And there's no work to do

The tractor's on its way.

Let me find you a filly for your proud stallion seed

to keep the old line going.

And we'll stand you abreast at the back of the wood

behind the young trees growing

To hide you from eyes that mock at your girth,

and your eighteen hands at the shoulder

And one day when the oil barons have all dripped dry

and the nights are seen to draw colder

They'll beg for your strength, your gentle power

your noble grace and your bearing

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Jethro Tull – Heavy Horses testo e traduzione (al clic) in italiano