A keresés eredménye

Song about the little bludgeon

I heard many songs back then,
In the midst of the workers.
Oh, in them it rang out
With joy and pain.
Even if I forgot a lot,
The song of work will always stay
Loyally in my heart
 
Hey, you little bludgeon, you green one,1
Hey, and if it doesn't want to work by itself,
We'll help!2
We'll help!
So give it to him.3
 
From the mouth of the grandfathers
It's been inherited to this day
The song about the brave bludgeon.
Because everyone likes to take,
When beset by poverty,
It up as the most secure measure.
 
Hey, you little bludgeon, you green one,
Hey, and if it doesn't want to work by itself,
We'll help!
We'll help!
So give it to him.
 
When the peasant perishes,
As a peasant does perish,
They leave their son a heritage:
'Patiently bear your lot,
As it falls to a peasant.4
Remember the bludgeon, too, when I die.'
 
Hey, you little bludgeon, you green one,
Hey, and if it doesn't want to work by itself,
We'll help!
We'll help!
So give it to him.
 
But once there will come the day
When the peasant awakens,
Stretches their bound limbs,
And beats down their enemy,
Who made them miserable,
To the ground with the bludgeon.
 

• 1. referring to it being made out of young wood
• 2. idiom meaning forcing someone
• 3. idiom meaning beating someone up
• 4. 'lot' is used in the sense of 'fate' here

mondd, hol a sok virág

mondd csak, hol a sok virág ?
vajon hol maradtak el ?
mondd csak, hol a sok virág ?
mi történt velük ?
mondd csak, hol a sok virág ?
lányok szedték, befonták
mikor értjük meg egymást,
mikor értjük meg egymást ?
 
mondd, hova lett a sok kislány ?
vajon hol maradnak el. ?
mondd, hova lett a sok kisleány ?
mi lett velük ?
hová lettek álmaik ?
szörnyek tépték szárnyaik.
mikor értjük meg egymást,
mikor értjük meg egymást ?
 
mondd, hol vannak a férfiak ?
vajon hol maradnak ?
mondd, hol vannak a férfiak ?
mi lett velük ?
messze tűntek lépteik
háborúba vitték mind.
mikor értjük meg egymást,
mikor értjük meg egymást ?
 
mondd hol vannak a katonák ?
vajon hol maradnak ?
mondd hol vannak a katonák ?
mi lett velük ?
mondd hol vannak a katonák ?
sírjuk felett vad virág.
mikor értjük meg egymást,
mikor értjük meg egymást ?
 
mondd hol vannak a sírjaik ?
ott várnak régen.
mondd hol vannak a sírjaik ?
mi lesz most velük ?
hol vannak a sírjaik ?
föld anya vigyázza mind
mikor értjük meg egymást ?
mikor értjük meg egymást ?
 
mondd csak, hol a sok virág ?
vajon hol maradtak el ?
mondd csak, hol a sok virág ?
mi történt velük ?
mondd csak, hol a sok virág ?
lányok szedték, befonták.
mikor értjük meg egymást,
mikor értjük meg egymást ?
 
fordította Gaál György István
 

The Rat-Catcher

Almost everyone knows what happened in Hameln, a thousand and one years ago,
how rats lived there, eating everything that was not made of iron.
At that time, after a long journey, I came to this town as a minstrel,
and when I entered the market place, the first thing I heard, was a herald shouting,
who, with the help of God or alone, would rescue the town from the rats,
would be paid a reward of one hundred talers in gold by the town council.
 
I took my bundle, my flute and my lyre, and knocked on the town hall gate,
but as soon as I was seen, they slammed the door shut again and put the bolt in place.
And I heard that they told the councilors, there was a man at the gate,
torn and stinking, in colourful rags, with a ring in his ear.
This man now would let the councilors know, that he came from far, far away,
and he'd offer his help to the town, because he were a rat-catcher.
 
I waited a long time, then a voice shouted through the closed door,
„Kill the rats, and you will get the promised Talers!“
I went and blew my flute at night, only one single tone,
which was so high that only the rats could hear it, and none of them escaped.
Soon the whole squeaking brood followed me into the river Weser,
and then, in the morning, a hundred thousand cadavers floated in the water.
 
When the citizens of Hameln heard, what had happened during the night,
they danced in the streets, but nobody remembered me.
And when I stood at the town hall again and demanded my pay,
this time again they slammed the gate shut in my face, and mockingly told me,
only the devil could have supported my work,
so it would be only just, if I collected my hundred Talers from him.
 
But I stayed there and waited for hours in front of that house, until the evening came,
but the councilors, who were sitting inside, didn't dare to come out.
When the night fell, armed fellows approached, a dozen or more,
they hit me in the back with their spears and pushed me around the place.
Outside the town they set their dogs on me, and the beasts did not spare me.
They tore me down, and on top of that, they pissed on my bleeding face.
 
When the moon was shining, I mended my rags and washed my wounds in the river,
and cried with weakness and anger, until sleep closed my eyes.
But once more I went back to the town, and now I had a plan.
It was Sunday, the citizens were about to go to the church now.
Only the children and the elderly stayed alone this morning,
and my hope was, that the children would be more just than their fathers.
 
Beforehand I had covered my torn face with colourful paint,
and I had draped my vest with cock feathers, so that the holes could not be seen.
And I played and sang, and the children soon joined me from everywhere,
they indignantly listened to what I sang and never forgot it again.
And the children decided to help me and no longer to just watch,
where injustice happens, but to fight it together from now on.
 
And the children of Hameln kept their word and they installed a court,
pulled to light their fathers' malice and lies.
And they aroused dismay and shame in their parents,
and because he was ashamed, many a father beat his child almost crooked and lame.
But with every cruelty the courage of the children of the town grew,
and the helpless citizens brought the matter to the high council.
 
It happened what is still happening today, when silence is more important than justice,
for where the rulers demand silence, the ruled are off ill.
So they decided the expulsion of a whole generation.
The dirty action started in the night of the same day.
Bound and gagged, well guarded by their own fathers,
the children of Hameln secretly were brought out of town.
 
Now there was silence again in the town of Hameln, almost like in a tomb,
but infamy flourished, and the councilors hurriedly drew up a document.
It was added to the town chronicle, sealed by the sovereign,
and it said, that the children had been slain by the rat-catcher.
But the children of Hameln are not dead, only dispelled all over the world,
they also fathered children again, and they told them this story.
 
Even today, there are people who are still fighting for the rights of the weaker.
These people could be the heirs of the children of Hameln.
But still the lie prevails the truth in this world,
and as long as violence and fear hold the power in their hands,
for so long I can neither die, nor could I rest nor flee,
but as a minstrel and a rat-catcher I must keep on going,
because people still take injustice for a natural force.
And still today I stir up the children against that, again and again,
and still today I stir up the children against that, again and again.
 

Charley

Formerly there was someone around, quite a long time ago,
somebody, who called himself Charley, only few will still know.
Some others, I am sure, will remember him quite well,
his sneakiness and rage they feared like fire down in hell.
 
Sometimes he stayed for some weeks, then he vanished for a year.
Salt on his skin and suntanned, with freshly bleached out hair,
all of a sudden, strong as ever, he came back after a while.
For us boys he was the king, parents thought him full of guile.
 
Everybody recognized how nice his floral shirt dressed him,
with holes, burned with a cigarette, with coal black charred rims.
We thought these holes were bullet holes, we really had no doubt,
and the pharmacist's son got an eye on it and checked it out.
 
He bought Charley's floral shirt at an outrageous price,
and he wore it, dirty as it was, with its holes and special spice.
For sure the guy believed that he just had to wear the thing,
and so Charley's strength and beauty would be transferred to him.
 
Because of Charley, young girls left their homes without permit,
he took it all for granted, did not care too much 'bout it.
Not only wild and naughty girls were chasing after him,
even good girls and grey wallflowers got hot, where he was seen.
 
I saw one of them walk closely past him, several times that night,
tightly pressing thighs together, when she came into his sight.
Later, as she could not have him, she pretended he was air,
and she took somebody else, who would blindly follow her.
 
This girl, what is more obvious, chose the bland guy as her spouse,
who inherited the pharmacy, recently I saw him by his house.
He looked different from back then - and it really is a shame -,
when Charley's tattered shirt had hung from his shaking frame.
 
Today his legs are bent, similar to rosy pigs,
inward like an X, under the weight of his broad hips,
and in the streets the children want to see him nude, and then
hear his knees both clap together, when he's walking straight past them.
 
Listen, Charley, what this guy told me, when we lately met!
He told me, you'd be just like him, so clean, gentle and fed.
You'd be no longer Charley, now Charles would be your name,
and everything run-off-the-mill, you took it as it came.
 
Well, Charley, what you do today is not my bus'ness, true,
but what a shame, someone like him can compare himself to you.
He who, though he yearned for it, has never been like you,
should not be allowed to spread, that you became like him, too.
 

The Tanker King

It was a spring morning when I had my first breakdown. I had thought about myself and life for a bit, when I suddenly became nauseous and something was pressing on my throat in a way that I thought I was being strangled.
 
I fell onto the street, gasping for air like a maniac but it just got even worse. I was getting dizzy, I spun in a circle ten times and thought everyone was pointing their fingers at me, until I realised I wasn't wearing any clothes.
 
I ran and ran, found an open ground level window, climbed inside and hid, shaking from fear and the cold, in some corner.
 
It took a while until I realised, that I was in a pawn shop. The room was full of old clothes, and I immediately dressed in harem pants, top boots and chain mail, slung an old crossbow over my back and immediately felt relaxed and invincible again.
 
I marched out onto the street and suddenly was at the personnel entrance of the mall, where I had been working the garbage incinerator. As I saw it, I was getting nauseous with anger, I ran through the security guard, ripped all telephone cables out of the wall, smashed the control clock out of the wall and continued to rage through the salesrooms.
 
As I came to the candy shop, the first cashier stood half hidden behind a pillar on a ladder to better catch the children stealing. He always brought them in to the administrators for a large bonus for everyone he caught. His dirty smile as he spotted me made me so angry, I fired my crossbow at him without aiming, and the bolt barely missed his neck and went through his suit jacket collar and nailed him to the pillar. I kicked away the ladder underneath him, so he just hung there like a wet bag. And while he thrashed and screamed I threw over one shelf after the other and distributed the toys among the children.
 
And in the middle of the big turmoil the boss of the house came to me and hissed at me: 'What are you doing there? Come with me into my office immediately, you idiot!' I loaded my crossbow and said: 'Suck my ass, you motherfucker! Raise your hands and move!' Then he saw the cashier hanging from the pillar and became pale as a corpse. I pushed him into the cargo elevator without the customers wondering about it as they thought it to be a publicity stunt, drove with him to the paper incinerator, gave him a kick pushing him through the big incinerator door, and as the police sirens were howling outside there was already nothing left of him.
 
I ran outside, threw the crossbow away, jumped onto a ladies' bicycle without a master and chased across the city to the town entrance and after one hour of cycling I fell off the bike half-dead and fell asleep under a shrub. The morning after it was cold as ice outside and with that came fear. I had killed a leading executive! Now I would be chased and hunted everywhere! And in my panic I stumbled further and further into the forest and around noon I found an abandoned air shelter. The door was open and in the corner of the room was a sub machine gun wrapped in oil paper and a case of ammunition. I assembled the gun. It worked and I immediately felt invincible again. I decided to move into the bunker and get supplies, to survive in hiding.
 
And on the same day I robbed three banks. I forced my way through the doors with the bicycle every time, drove in a circle, fired the SMG into the ceiling so that the plaster splashed around and screamed: 'I am the pied piper of Hamelin, where are the mice here?!' ['mice' being a slang term for money in German]
 
And as I acquired around 100,000 Marks like that, I went shopping at the supermarket and managed to get back to my shelter on hidden paths.
 
(Guitar Interlude)
 
I remained invisible, until no more newspaper articles about me were published, then started to acquire what I needed in small chunks and lived some very calm months. I grew hemp in a flower pot, smoked a joint every now and then, relaxed in my hammock and listened - with my SMG on my belly - to the charts on a mobile radio and I was happy. But just like most happy people I was also getting dumber and dumber after a while, and to work against that I was writing letters to the editor by the truckload and took a bath in a fenced-off lake near me, that was owned by the Tanker King.
 
So, one day at noon - I was sitting really calmly in the water with my SMG - suddenly there stood some guy in a shirt, green apron, straw hat, spade over his shoulder and told me, this was private property, and what would happen if everyone acted like I was acting there. I said: 'Yeah, if everyone acted like that, then the Tanker King would soon be out of the picture here with his view of the lake.' I asked him if he really needed to degrade himself as a gardener servant to the Tanker King. Then he said: 'I'm not the gardener, I am the Tanker King!' I said: 'That's just unbelievable, firing the gardener, flowering the dahlias yourself and letting your money work in your stead! That's going to end now!' I wanted to pull the trigger right then and there, then hesitated and couldn't do it after all and instead I just forced him to smoke a joint as thick as a chimney. And I said: 'So! And now I want to see how billionaires are living!'
 
We walked the few hundred meters to his mansion and as we arrived, he was already high as a kite. He staggered around in front of me into a giant patio towards a luxurious sitting area, where the Tanker Queen sat and relaxed. With a small doggy in her arms, with a blue ribbon and a pink asshole and she mumbled without opening her eyes: 'Rudy, is it you? I'll say, Ari Onassis has invited us to a Safari!' The Tanker King stared at his wife first as if he didn't understand a word, then started to dance around her and mimicked her voice: 'With Ari on Safari!' The Tanker Queen opened her eyes, spotted us and fled up the stairs, screaming. The Tanker King took a battle axe hanging on the wall and went, Ari Safari, after her.
 
Then I thought 'That drama I have to watch from the outside!' I sat down on a swing hammock and already I saw the Tanker King crawl out of a window on the roof. The bloody axe in his hand he spread his arms, jumped and - splat - hit the ground directly in front of my feet. I went back to my bunker for now and went back to sleep.
 
The morning after I heard the news broadcast. Half the world was upside down. They also talked about me. The Tanker Queen had given testimony. Her husband had not killed her with the axe, but only the doggy and people were talking about an economic catastrophe caused by the sudden death of the Tanker King. And further they said all state police were searching with hounds, radar, helicopters and tanks after the insane murderer with the chain mail and top boots. I was getting really anxious and I closed up the bunker and didn't dare to come out for weeks.
 
After a while I felt so miserable and lonely, that I started talking to myself. I desperately needed someone to talk to! But someone who would be able to understand the whole affair with the Tanker King! And I didn't know anyone like that. But then I had an idea: If there was no one alive like that, then maybe I could talk to someone dead. So I sneaked out of the forest around midnight to the next town. I knew a house there, in which people were holding séances on a regular basis.
 
And I got lucky too, the séance was underway already. I pushed the door open with my foot, SMG in my hand and shouted: 'Don't panic, gentlemen, and put your hands on the table!' But just as they put their hands on the flat surface, the table started to shake and levitate all by itself a few meters above the floor. I said: 'Come on, children, don't fool around, put your hands above your heads!' Immediately all hands went up into the air and the table plummeted back to the ground and I said: 'So, who of you lot is the supreme druid? Gimme a line to Che Guevara, I want to finally talk to a reasonable human!'
 
First they weren't sure who I meant, but then applied themselves and finally I heard a noise in the line and I heard the voice of Che Guevara: 'What do you want of me?' I told him who I was and what I did and that I needed guidance. And the voice asked me a bit annoyed what the big idea was and if I ever heard of organised class struggle. I said, nope, I never did. The voice went silent for a moment and then continued a lot more comforting and friendly: Yeah, then it would be hard to help me, I was sick and it would be best if I visited a psychoanalyst soon.
 
Totally depressed I crawled back to my bunker, as I heard the metal cans ringing that were attached to the alarm wire I set up around my hiding place. With my whole body shaking from fear I went there and saw a Volkswagen car standing there, with a naked couple on the front seat. The bumper had gotten tangled up in my alarm wire, so the cans were ringing without pause.
 
I was so offended that I pushed my SMG into the back of the guy and screamed at him: 'Stop this immediately! Far and wide nothing but the most beautiful untouched nature and you are doing gymnastics in your stinky car. Get out of there, immediately, into the bluebells!' The poor guy began to whine into my ears: 'Why did you scare us like that? Now my acquaintance here has a cramp and we are stuck!' That was just what I needed.
 
We talked a while about what we could do and decided it would be best to stick the bride with a needle into her leg, as a shock therapy, but of course no one of us had a needle with them. This was taking too much time for my taste and I said: 'Enough! If you want a needle, you will have to crawl the few hundred meters to the sewing box yourself!' The operation succeeded in the end. And only after the two left the shelter I realised, I had made a horrible mistake...
 

Goodbye beautiful

Versions: #2
Early in the morning
bella ciao, bella ciao, bella ciao, ciao, ciao1
early in the morning
we encountered our enemy.
 
Partisans, come take me with you
bella ciao, bella ciao, bella ciao, ciao, ciao
partisans, come take me with you
because I feel death is near.
 
When I die, oh comrades
bella ciao, bella ciao, bella ciao, ciao, ciao
return me as a brave partisan
to my last resting place.
 
In the shade of a little flower
bella ciao, bella ciao, bella ciao, ciao, ciao
a very small and delicate flower,
take me to the mountains.
 
And the people who are passing
bella ciao, bella ciao, bella ciao, ciao, ciao
and the people who are passing
see the little flower upright.
 
This flower, they say
bella ciao, bella ciao, bella ciao, ciao, ciao
is the flower of a partisan
who died for our freedom.
 

• 1. Bella ciao = Goodbye beautiful

• No utilicen mis traducciones sin crédito o permiso. — Don't use my translations without credit or permission.


• Tienen permiso de usar mis traducciones como base para hacer otras traducciones, pero solo en este sitio con crédito. — You have permission to use my translations as a base to make other translations, but only on this site and with credit.


• Terminology: lit. (literally), lat. (latin term), pr. (pronunciation). @= a/o (for Spanish translations only, @ can be switched from a feminine or masculine perspective.

ég veled

fullasztó reggel, nyomasztó reggel
most megyek édes, ég veled, ég veled
fullasztó reggel, nyomasztó reggel
már várt rám a halál
fullasztó reggel, nyomasztó reggel
már várt rám a halál
 
nyomasztó reggel, fullasztó reggel
most megyek édes, ég veled, ég veled
nyomasztó reggel, fullasztó reggel
várt már rám a halál
fullasztó reggel, nyomasztó reggel
várt márt rám a halál
 
ó bajtárs keress egy helyet
most megyek édes, ég veled, ég veled
ó bajtárs keress egy helyet
hol a halállal lakom ezután
ó bajtárs keress egy helyet
hol a halállal lakom ezután
 
ó bajtárs keress egy helyet
most megyek édes, ég veled, ég veled
ó bajtárs keress egy helyet
hol a halállal lakom ezután
ó bajtárs keress egy helyet
hol a halállal lakom ezután
 
ott várnak már a bajtársak
most megyek édes, ég veled, ég veled
ott várnak már a bajtársak
kik a hazáért nem bánták a halált
ott várnak már a bajtársak
kit lerántott a halál
 
ott várnak már a bajtársak
most megyek édes, ég veled, ég veled
ott várnak már a bajtársak
kiket elragadott már a halál
ott várnak már a bajtársak
kik a hazáért nem bánták a halált
 
aztán ha néha arra jártok
most megyek édes, ég veled, ég veled
hozzatok egy kis virágot
mely a síromon lebeg
hozzatok egy kis virágot
mely a síromon lebeg
 
aztán ha néha arra jártok
most megyek édes, ég veled, ég veled
hozzatok egy kis virágot
mely a síromon lebeg
hozzatok egy kis virágot
mely a síromon lebeg
 
fordította Gaál György István