Where do you go to my lovely?

Ogni mattina alla radio un astuto dj  fa girare qualche vecchia canzone proprio mentre sono in macchina per recarmi al lavoro. E un momento speciale, 10 minuti che decideranno le sorti della giornata. Se la canzone appare mentre attraverso il ponte e'cosa fatta. La vista di Muscat arrampicata sul deserto e' stupenda, la strada e'quasi sempre vuota a quell'ora del mattino, da un lato la laguna di mangrovie, dall'altro il mare calmo,  o tumultuoso quando c'e vento. A quell'ora la marea e'alta, dalla spiaggia si raggiunge subito la riva e viene voglia di fare il bagno. Le maestre di qualche scuola materna accompagnano i bimbi a giocare sulla sabbia, magari sono in gita dai villaggi interni e non hanno mai visto il mare, stanno li'tutti in fila tenendosi per mano...

Cosi', e' passata una vecchia ballata qualche giorno fa, di grande successo nel lontano 1969, che ho trovato irresistibile... Questo e'il link al video, in versione recente.

 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qu75RN5fChc

Potete seguire il testo e'chissa', perfezionare il vostro inglese. O se siete gia' perfetti, malesh, pazienza. Noi  restiamo qui a far compagnia a Marie Claire!

Where do you go to my lovely?
Peter Sarstedt - 1969



You talk like Marlene Dietrich
And you dance like Zizi Jeanmaire
Your clothes are all made by Balmain
And there's diamonds and pearls in your hair, yes there are


You live in a fancy apartment
Off the Boulevard Saint-Michel
Where you keep your Rolling Stones records
And a friend of Sacha Distel, yes you do


You go to the embassy parties
Where you talk in Russian and Greek
And the young men who move in your circle
They hang on every word you speak, yes I do



But where do you go to my lovely
When you're alone in your bed
Tell me the thoughts that surround you
I want to look inside your head, yes I do


I've seen all your qualifications
You got from the Sorbonne
And the painting you stole from Picasso
Your loveliness goes on and on, yes it does


When you go on your summer vacation
You go to Juan-les-Pins
With your carefully designed topless swimsuit
You get an even suntan on your back and on your legs


And when the snow falls you're found in Saint Moritz
With the others of the jet-set
And you sip your Napoleon brandy
But you never get your lips wet, no you don't


But where do you go to my lovely
When you're alone in your bed
Won't you tell me the thoughts that surround you
I want to look inside your head, yes I do


You're in-between twenty an thirty -
A very desirable age
Your body's firm and inviting
But you live on a glittering state


Your name, it is heard in high places
You know the Aga Khan
He sent you a racehorse for Christmas
And you keep it just for fun, for a laugh a-ha-ha-ha


They say that when you get married
It'll be to a millionaire
But they don't realize where you came from
And I wonder if they really care, or give a damn


Where do you go to my lovely
When you're alone in your bed
Tell me the thoughts that surround you
I want to look inside your head, yes I do


I remember the back streets of Naples
Two children begging in rags
Both touched with a burning ambition
To shake off their lowly-born tags, so they try


So look into my face Marie-Claire
And remember just who you are
Then go and forget me forever
But I know you still bear the scar, deep inside, yes you do


I know where you go to my lovely
When you're alone in your bed
I know the thoughts that surround you
'Cause I can look inside your head