A keresés eredménye

Song about Grozny

In this world, I have seen many
Ancient and beautiful cities.
But never have I come across one like Grozny,
Nowhere have I seen such gardens.
 
Refrain:
Fly, the song, fly, the song.
Go round all the mountains!
Fly, the song, and tell everyone
How our city lives!
 
Ah, how the quiet rustle of the leaves resounds,
How flows the water of the rapid river Sunzha
You bloomed and grew, dear city,
City of happiness, friendship and labour!
 
Refrain.
 
Here, a Chechen, a Russian, and an Ingush
Multiply happiness in a friendly family.
Precious dear capital,
Bloom and prosper on the joyful land!
 
Refrain.
 
Pipe vents and oil towers
Proudly hold up the heavens.
Blue flashes illuminate
The frames of buildings under construction.
 
Refrain.
 
And when, in the valley, the late dusk
Comes from the black mountains along with the darkness,
Grozny turns on millions of stars.
My laboring, my glorious city!
 

Victory Day

Versions:
Victory Day was so far away from us,
Like an ember in an extinct bonfire.
We have walked plenty of dusty and burnt miles,
With tremendous efforts we were bringing Victory Day closer.
 
Victory Day smells of gunpowder
This is the holiday with grey temples
And joy mixed up with tears.
Victory Day, Victory Day, Victory Day!
 
Our Motherland worked hard
At Martin furnaces night and day.
Night and day we were fighting a difficult battle
Bringing Victory Day closer.
 
Victory Day smells of gunpowder
This is the holiday with grey temples
And joy mixed up with tears.
Victory Day, Victory Day, Victory Day!
 
Hello, Mom, we are not all back home.
I would like to run barefoot through the dew.
We have walked half of Europe, half of Earth,
Bringing Victory Day closer.
 
Victory Day smells of gunpowder
This is the holiday with grey temples
And joy mixed up with tears.
Victory Day, Victory Day, Victory Day!
 

In memoriam Che Guevara

In Chile, in the city of Santiago, a statue of Ernesto Che Guevara was removed from its pedestal and sent to be melted down.
 
Che Guevara is being tortured again,
what do you torment metal?!
At the stake, above the criminal dogs,
he remains silent, as he would when alive.
 
They torture him red, white hot
but only his heart became translucent.
The outlines of the sculpture melt,
but they can't manage to destroy1 him!
 
I am Ernesto, the son of light,
I rose from oblivion,
And I shall glow red
forever more!2
 
There is no such melting point,
you won't find such furnaces!
Freedom has patience to boot,
instead of moans, a stream of light.
 
But on the square, in naked horror,
where not a speck of dust remains3,
the black wind of terror stirs
a forest of resurrected hands!
 
I am Ernesto, the son of light,
I rose from oblivion,
And I shall glow red
forever more!
 
Che Guevara is being tortured again,
what do you torment metal?!
At the stake, above the criminal dogs,
he remains silent, as he would when alive.
 
They torture him red, white hot
but only his heart became translucent.
The outlines of the sculpture melt,
but they can't manage to destroy him!
 
I am Ernesto, the son of light,
I rose from oblivion,
And I shall glow red
forever more!
 
I shall walk the earth again,
all out in struggle and love
for Allende and Neruda,
and in blood-drenched sunlight!4
 

• 1. 'melt him down' but I couldn't find two different words in English
• 2. 'I will never get out of my red state/condition'
• 3. I suspect the expression is idiomatic but I'd welcome native help on this
• 4. not quite sure of that line either

The Ballad About The Colours.

He was redhead, like a stew from *milcap,
As oranges on snow gingerhead.
Mother was joking, mother was fun-
I gave birth to a son from the sun.
 
And another son was black, like black hole afar,
Black as if a burned down tar,
She was laughing when asked about that,
She was laughing when asked about that,
She was laughing when asked about that,
The night was too dark, she said.
 
In the forty-first, in forty memorable year
The loudspeakers shouted, the war is here,
Both sons, both two, salt of the earth they were
They bowed low to the mother and gone to war.
 
It happened in the battle, they felt, the young one
Black smoke and furious red fire of the gun,
Wicked greenery of stagnant fields,
Wicked greenery of stagnant fields,
Wicked greenery of stagnant fields,
Grey colour of the frontline hospitals,and those killed.
 
Both sons, both two, two wings
They fought to victory, mum was waiting.
She wasn't angry, she didn't cursed the fate,
The death notification spared her place.
 
She got lucky, suddenly the happiness she found,
The only lucky one of three villages around.
She got lucky, she got lucky, her alone
She got lucky, she got lucky, her alone
She got lucky, she got lucky, her alone
Both sons to the village returned.
 
Both sons, flash and trait, well and sound,
Golden medals so many you couldn't count.
Shoulder to shoulder the sons side by side sit
Legs and hands are all intact, what else do you need?
 
As a custom the young wine they drink,
Both hair color changed, it seems.
Deathly white their hair became,
Deathly white their hair became,
Deathly white their hair became,
Apparently the war has a lot of white paint.
 
Deathly white their hair became,
Deathly white their hair became,
Deathly white their hair became,
Apparently the war has a lot of white paint.
 

Song of the Faraway Homeland

Versions: #2
Beg of you, even for a while,
Pain of mine, take your leave of me,
Like a cloud, like a slate-blue cloud
You fly away tow’rds my native homeland,
From here to my native homeland.
 
Shore of mine, show yourself from ‘far,
Tiny edge, just finest line.
Shore of mine, tender, welcoming,
If I could swim to you, my beloved,
Swim tow’rds you sometimes, or ever.
 
Somewhere far away, very far indeed,
Sunshowers fall from the sky.
Somehwere by the stream in a little garden
Red cherries ripen, weighing down the boughs.
 
Somewhere far away in my memories
It’s warm and sweet, childhood-like,
Though mem’ries are buried
With heavy, impenetrable snowdrifts.
 
Thunderstorm, let me drink my fill,
Till I’m stoned but not dead as stone.
Here again, here yet again
I fix my gaze on the sky above me
As if there’s an answer coming…
 
Beg of you, even for a while,
Pain of mine, take your leave of me,
Like a cloud, like a slate-blue cloud
You fly away tow’rds my native homeland
From here to my native homeland.