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[a7sharp9]

Нашел частичную расшифровку того, что Хендрикс насочинял, немножко ее сам подправил (для англоязычных, слушать параллельно с чтением):

Davis+Coltrane+Cannonball: Freddie...
Kelly: Ain't you hip to Freddie?
Davis+Coltrane+Cannonball: Freddie...
Kelly: Or ain't you drinking steady?
Davis+Coltrane+Cannonball: Freddie...
Kelly: You'd be soon as you knew him.
Davis+Coltrane+Cannonball: Freddie...
Kelly: Trouble keeps pouring through him.
Davis+Coltrane+Cannonball: Free booze,
Kelly: Gobs
Davis+Coltrane+Cannonball: ...free dues,
Kelly: Bottles
Davis+Coltrane+Cannonball: ...free blues.
Kelly: Enough to get you drunk.

Davis+Coltrane+Cannonball: Freddie...
Kelly: You don’t know Fred? You should meet him.
Davis+Coltrane+Cannonball: Freddie...
Kelly: Sure ain’t none to beat him
Davis+Coltrane+Cannonball: Freddie...
Kelly: Straight life, he’s heavy.
Davis+Coltrane+Cannonball: Freddie...
Kelly: Freddie, he's got substance.
Davis+Coltrane+Cannonball: Free booze,
Kelly: Yeah
Davis+Coltrane+Cannonball: ...free dues,
Kelly: Booze
Davis+Coltrane+Cannonball: ...free blues.

Kelly:
He isn’t good looking,
yet handsome.
Want some credit?
He'd extend some.

‘Cause serving drinks is what he does groovier than most men,
especially to bopping cats that come in,
‘cause Freddie really loves that thing called bebop,
lets the cats drink every drop
while he digs on it non–stop.

So cats are lined up at his bar,
with throats dry,
knowing that that’s the place where Freddie can tab and get you high
without ever worrying ‘bout payment -
payment’ll come from the endless myriad of squares, so you never ever have to even think about it.
Just settle on down to some drinking,
your tab’s all paid, let the good times roll.

So pour me another drink! Here’s a toast to old Freddie,
a cat
that’s hip to where it was
and where it’s at.
He used to be such a solid stone pillar of the church, he used to be sanctified,
he had his religion.
But now it’s the devil’s own dirt he does, dispensing spirit, meanwhile of his own
there is only the tiniest smidgeon.
(нрзб)
Freddy don't play that.

Davis:
There’s this cat,
his name is Freddie.
This cat’s a bartender,
Well known by anyone hip.
He can mix the kind of drink that you won’t forget;
one sip, and you’ll flip,

then for chasers
Freddie’s got some stuff for hip lips,
groovy stuff for your cup;
let the flow go,
get down,
drink it up.
I swear
he made it up himself
And it'll hypnotize
an elf.

Them drinks that Freddie mix -
Ain’t no ailment they won’t fix.
For each emotion
Freddie’s got a potion.
He’s known to have you ossified
before you know you’ve even tried.

Just mention his name -
all the cats know Freddie.
He serves one,
so Freddie deserves one.
‘Cause tending bar the way that Freddie does -
he claims it unnerves one.

So all day
juicers all pay
Freddie,
but all that bread
don’t reach the till.
Though I ain’t saying Freddie’s stealing,
but if you know him at all, then it’s a cinch that you know he will -

ever ready Freddie!
Then he’ll pour so steady.
I’ve seen him sink one drink
`fore the next cat was ready.
He’s got a style
that’s so well-known -
Freddie’s own touch,
really too much,
it’s all his own.

Coltrane
Speaking of Freddie:
who the hell is he?
And what is Freddie to me?
And what is this I hear
about the kind of a bar he’s tending?
So he tends a groovy bar?
So there you are. Forget it,
to me it couldn’t mean a thing,
and I would count
myself a fool to let it.
I’ve had it up to here with Freddie!
A little of Freddie is really heady,
you know
that alcohol’ll make an ordinary fella’s mind unsteady

It’s in the book, you can read it, if you ever sober up enough to wanna take a look,
You, you settled into alcoholic use,
and getting ignunt oil^* to swirl around and cut you down,
sucking up the juice,
and it ain’t never gonna ever turn you loose, you stupid dummy!

See the hole in your head?
The cats that do what you do are dead,
Remember that!
Now you know!
So take it slow, you’ll find you gonna have a longer row to hoe.
And so I say you gotta play another way,
you oughta add a little depth to your attitude
and exercise your mind;
if you do you probably will find that fame ain't nothing but pride and illusion.
Who’s up and who’s down is all façade, I tell you,
while we’re whirling on our axle at a thousand miles a minute while we think we’re standin’ still.
When you think of that it’s kinda peculiar,
even so, you oughta know
that alcohol is eating up your brain -
otherwise it wouldn’t function quite as slow.
Think of this: you’re not a body but a mind!
A revelation!
Don’t resist!
Your body’s serving as a kind of blind,
secreting your immortal soul.
Ah, what bliss!
You’re free,
you’re free, really you are,
to meld your heart
and your mind
with your soul
is the goal,
then the soul’s the one you need
that’ll render you up to the sky and keep you high forever! And lots of people tend to think
all they ever have to do is light a joint or take a drink to reach the same euphoric brink -
Forget it!
It never will be so, ‘cause alcohol and them narcotics
will never do the trick.
You just gotta do it like I said,
or mess your body up by shooting stuff
and getting sick.
Don’t ever listen to your intellect,
‘Cause intellect only violates the spirit.
There, I know I made my own position clear! Now (нрзб)!
You may never do...

Cannonball:
I’ve heard what you’ve said,
and it stays in my head.
Well, let me tell you of my impression:
everything you said is straight ahead,
absolutely, indeed.
It sure needs thinking about,
I’m just trying to figure it out.
I never would believe it if I hadn’t really heard it!

Pretty much of what I heard is indefinable to me,
and I really fail to see a relationship
between a fella’s soul and body.
Somebody’s gonna have to make it clear to me -
How having a teentsy-weentsiest itsy-bitsiest taste with Freddie
is apt to make a fella’s life unsteady?
So pour me a drink and let me think,
raise you glass, make ‘em clink,
bottoms up -
now I’m ready for the game.
Might as well get it ’cause the way it is I’m never gonna’ win it...

Let’s have a party, drinking hearty,
gonna drink up till we drop!
Let me have another one, that's the trick!
You wanna soda or you gonna drink it straight?
The way you're burping got me thinking:
maybe it might have been something you ate?
Relax and let’s drink steady,
it’s on Freeload Freddie!
Drink up, everybody, thanks to Freddie!

I’m talking ’bout Freddie
‘cause Freddie is steady,
talking ‘bout copping his buddy some booze.
Wanna’ get drunk for free?
That’s easy, Freddie’ll pop a little, take it off the top a little, so his boss’ll never even miss it - drink up, it’s Freddie’s treat!
You buy one, he’ll give you one.
Acquaintances never leave Freddie’s dry!
You’re never really ever gonna find a cheaper high,

I'm telling the truth, yeah,
I’m sitting right here one evening, just cooling, I’m telling you, man - I was broke,
and about to beg me a drink and that’s no joke,
and that’s when ol’ Freddie spoke,
and he said:
"Don’t worry ‘bout it, man, ‘cause I can dig it
that you got a thirst going without it, man,
I’m here to tell you ain’t nothing that’s worse, that’s the reason I’m inclined to let a fella freeload -
because of that they call me Freddie Freeloader"!

Потрясающее что-то. Так-то разбирал только отдельными кусками. Мало, что слова безупречно подобраны под инструментальные интонации (не ритм, а именно интонации) - еще и четыре персонажа нарисовались, причем, видимо, совпадающие с характерами исполнителей (точно Колтрейн-проповедник, и очень похоже, что Келли-пофигист, Дэвис-провокатор, и Кэннонболл - вдумчиво пропащая душа), и появилась не то что динамика, а прямо драматургия, черт дери.

Вот что такое настоящий перевод. Не с языка на язык, а с музыки и человеческих индивидуальностей на язык.

^*"Ignunt oil" - "пойло", от "ignorant". Есть, разумеется, джазовая пьеса под таким названием, тоже блюз, господина Милта Джексона сочинение.