Rainer Maria Rilke - Damen-Bildnis aus den Achtziger-Jahren dalszöveg fordítás
Damen-Bildnis aus den Achtziger-Jahren
Wartend stand sie an den schwergerafften
dunklen Atlasdraperien,
die ein Aufwand falscher Leidenschaften
über ihr zu ballen schien
seit den noch so nahen Mädchenjahren
wie mit einer anderen vertauscht
müde unter den getürmten Haaren,
in den Rüschen-Roben unerfahren
und von allen Falten wie belauscht
bei dem Heimweh und dem schwachen Planen,
wie das Leben weiter werden soll:
anders, wirklicher, wie in Romanen,
hingerissen und verhängnisvoll, -
dass man etwas erst in die Schatullen
legen dürfte, um sich im Geruch
von Erinnerungen einzulullen
dass man endlich in dem Tagebuch
einen Anfang fände, der nicht schon
unterm Schreiben sinnlos wird und Lüge,
und ein Blatt von einer Rose trüge
in dem schweren leeren Medaillon,
welches liegt auf jedem Atemzug.
Dass man einmal durch das Fenster winkte
diese schlanke Hand, die neuberingte,
hätte dran für Monate genug.
(Paris, zwischen dem 22.8. und 5.9.1907)
Az előadó további dalszöveg fordításait megtalálhatod a következő linken:
Rainer Maria RilkeAz oldalon található minden zeneszöveg magyar fordítás másként dalszöveg fordítás vagy lyrics fordítás csak személyes és oktatási célokra használható fel.
Minden dalszöveg tulajdon és szerzői joga a szerzőket vagy a szám tulajdonosait illeti.
További dalszöveg fordítások
2024.12.25.
Guitar, play more softly
Guitar, play more softly
Someone might hear
Only he must understand
He alone must know
That I’m talking about love
The moon is still in the sky
The firefly is on the apple tree
No one sleeps tonight
Not even him, who at this hour
Holds the pillow and sighs
The time
To give all the love I have in my heart
To say goodbye forever or forgive
And love like no one else can
It’s time
To breathe a little pure air
A meadow is green when it’s spring
The sun is warm and then evening comes for us...
The moon is still in the sky
The firefly is on the apple tree
My guitar, play more softly
Even though the hand is uncertain
Play guitar, for it’s the time
The time
To give all the love I have in my heart
To say goodbye forever or forgive
And love her like no one else can
It’s time
To breathe a little pure air
A meadow is green when it’s spring
The sun is warm and then evening comes for us
Guitar, play more softly
Someone might hear
2024.12.25.
The will of a loner
What subject should I choose now, what should I tell you?
I look in the mirror and see myself at the end of the road.
I must care for my fellows when others dig their graves,
As if they thirst for it—look into your own grave.
Lay down with the dead, toast a glass of life,
Inhale for the last time, exhale without hope.
Because tomorrow births new sacrifices of forgetting
You cried yesterday, and your tears open the gates of calling.
Bells toll in the distance I light my last cigarette.
'Give me just one more light' — this is the thousandth time
When I hold Heaven in my palms and willingly lose it through my fingers,
I bow down and gather pieces of Hell.
Father, what is your reasoning when you threaten us with punishments? Happiness not.
You'll be left alone in the house of the skies,
You surely know this too.
The dreams of humanity go where reason has not yet arrived—
Too much happiness or ignorance does not constitute an answer.
For me, it’s enough I’ve grown tired of hoping,
Of borrowing from myself and always asking of myself again,
Of being in debt to my own being, always in distress,
Only to say, in the end, that I have nothing and deserve a slap.
I go outside no one’s there. I walk like a madman,
Leaving no traces, only lead. It feels like every road
Has remained as it was I relive my childhood
When joy embraced me, now nostalgia overtakes me.
And anger for the passing years I feel within,
They turn into illusions—you know I’m serious when I lie to you.
I sit on a rotten bench in the middle of nowhere,
It’s late at night, and by morning, I won’t be-
Present in this world, I must say
This really isn’t an album it’s a goodbye message.
Eternal peace awaits me, along with smoke and coffee,
And all the dear ones already gone—the owl knows them well.
One by one, in an orderly line, the memories have left.
When you don’t know who you are, everything ends.
To the apocalypse of the end, perceive another realm lightly
In the end, we all board the same train and won’t get off.
It leads to nowhere—indifferent, inept, or wise—
Nothing here helps when asked for your ticket.
You can’t take wealth with you you pay with your early dreams.
So, my friend, chasing money means wasted time.
What inheritance should I leave? Perhaps a thought, but not even that.
I tried to be where no one else wanted
To stay, to listen to you, to say a kind word.
A warm caress matters when your soul is frost-covered.
The string of questions laced with regret on paper
Is a lie that could heal any real wound.
Here, theoretically, is the final point, and practically,
Thus ends the pitiful will of a loner.
2024.12.25.
Digging a Hole
I'm digging a hole—where did I go wrong in life?
I'm digging a hole, jamming the shovel in with self-abandonment.
The wind howls in the forest, and the nightjars cry out.
Under a perfectly round full moon, I’m being surveilled at 25 o’clock.
I'm digging a hole—he finally slipped up.
I'm digging a hole—this is the outcast’s pitfall.
Wiping the sweat off my brow doesn’t wipe away the regret too.
Only my bad luck sticks to me like a medal pinned to my chest.
The yawning mouth of the darkness stirs up visions of my childhood.
My dad used to say, “Even villains can go to heaven.”
After all, God is a villain too. Even brats know that much.
Cry, wail, pray all you like.
The proof is that we were shat out into a world like this.
Maybe that’s just life, and the sooner you give up, the better.
I’ve given up on myself. Gave up the moment I was born.
I'm digging a hole—for that friend who was once mine.
I'm digging a hole—for that friend who no longer moves.
In the lantern’s light, my shadow looks like a demon.
For a street in this town, this is just a typical end.
If we’d managed to scrape by somehow, everything was supposed to have been fine.
My dad used to say, “Despair always tags along with hope.”
After all, even God is a villain. He just lets us go on hoping and hoping.
Cry, wail, pray all you like.
His trick is always the same.
Maybe that’s just life, and the sooner you give up, the better.
I’ve given up on myself. Gave up the moment I was born.
I'm digging a hole—with a gun pressed against my back.
I'm digging a hole—a hole that I’ll get in myself.
What an absolutely worthless life it’s been. I could laugh.
It just pisses me off—why does it always have to be me?
With enough momentum to shred this life to pieces,
I’m digging a hole. I’m digging a hole.
I’m digging a hole. I’m digging a hole.
After all, I’m a villain too. That much was decided back when I was just a brat.
I cried, wailed, and prayed—I couldn’t choose where I had been born.
Maybe that’s just life,
and the sooner you give up, the better.
Else, you’ll end up an idiot,
the kind that doesn’t know when to quit.
You’ll end up a person who doesn’t quit.
2024.12.25.
In Italy
So many distant memories
All (i.e. the memories) intoxicated with you
Just us, and the blue sky
I still feel your kisses
But you’re not here
And I miss your love
You know it (that I do)
When you return
To Italy
You will have me
In Italy
I will wait for you
My angel
Tell me what you want
It is so sunny
In Italy
When you’re with me
In Italy
There is happiness
If you’re here
Come to Italy
Your light dress is so beautiful
It so easily makes me crazy
Just us, and the blue sea
Take the next flight
And come here
Without you, this life is nothing
When you return
To Italy
You will have me
In Italy
I will wait for you
My angel
Tell me what you want
It is so sunny
In Italy
When you’re with me
In Italy
There is happiness
If you’re here
Come to Italy