JETHRO TULL- BUDAPEST. A SONG FOR YOU

Descubrí a Jethro Tull gracias a Iron Maiden, lo reconozco. Cuando sacaron el "Seventh son of a seventh son", y en su carpeta, Steve Harris llevaba una camiseta de los Jethro Tull, mas concretamente del disco "Crest of a Knave", picó mi curiosidad por conocer a la banda. Además, aquel año, se reavivó mi interés, con aquella polémica decisión de dar a Jethro Tull por aquel disco, el grammy a mejor banda de metal, en detrimento de Metallica, que eran los grandes favoritos y se quedaron con la cara partida, cuando vieron a Ian Anderson quedarse con el premio. No tenia nada de la banda, así que decidí agenciarme aquel disco del que tanto se hablaba, gracias a aquella anécdota.

Y si hubo un tema que me enamoró desde el primer momento, ese fue "Budapest", que me ganó para la causa de los Jethro. La belleza de la canción, que a pesar de su duración se me pasaba volando, me hacia escucharla una y otra vez, sin cansarme nunca de ella, y aun lo sigo haciendo, cuando  busco uno de esos temas capaces de tocarme el sentimiento. Cada viernes voy a intentar recordar y dedicaros a los lectores del blog una canción, y esta semana, "Budapest", es una canción para vosotros.

I think she was a middle-distance runner...
(the translation wasn't clear).
Could be a budding stately hero.
International competition in a year.
She was a good enough reason for a party...
(well, you couldn't keep up on a hard track mile)
while she ran a perfect circle.
And she wore a perfect smile
in Budapest... hot night in Budapest.

We had to cozzy up in the old gymnasium...
dusting off the mandolins and checking on the gear.
She was helping out at the back-stage...
stopping hearts and chilling beer.
Yes, and her legs went on for ever.
Like staring up at infinity
through a wisp of cotton panty
along a skin of satin sea.
Hot night in Budapest.

You could cut the heat, peel it back with the wrong side of a knife.
Feel it blowing from the sidefills. Feel like you were playing for your life
(if not the money).
Hot night in Budapest.

She bent down to fill the ice box
and stuffed some more warm white wine in
like some weird unearthly vision
wearing only T-shirt, pants and skin.
You know, it rippled, just a hint of muscle.
But the boys and me were heading west
so we left her to the late crew
and a hot night in Budapest.
It was a hot night in Budapest.

She didn't speak much English language...
(she didn't speak much anyway).
She wouldn't make love, but she could make good sandwich
and she poured sweet wine before we played.

Hey, Budapest, cha, cha, cha. Let's watch her now.

I thought I saw her at the late night restaurant.
She would have sent blue shivers down the wall.
But she didn't grace our table.
In fact, she wasn't there at all.
Yes, and her legs went on forever.
Like staring up at infinity.
Her heart was spinning to the west-lands
and she didn't care to be
that night in Budapest.
Hot night in Budapest.