A keresés eredménye oldal 12

Run, Run, He Left For The North

Run, run, he left for the north,
I do not know when he will come.
He will come for the anniversary
Of our solitude.
 
.................. ..
.................. ..
 
From a season of time,
At a location chosen,
Run, run, he left for the north,
I do not know when he will come.
 

Két szó

Gyorsan vége lett mindennek, megfagyott a lehelet.
Két szó volt.
Két szó volt.
 
Nem mondott semmi furcsát,
Nem akart megbántani,
De a félelem jobban bánt mint az ok.
 
És én, mint egy kutya akinek nincs gazdája,
Megszöktem, futottam mint egy kis gyerek,
Emlékeztem, hogy néha a világ komoly.
Két szó volt.
Két szó volt.
 
Elakartuk kerülni, talán leplezni,
Gyávák voltunk, csak két gyáva.
 
Hibásak és ártatlanok,
Különböző álmokkal,
De mindig megbocsátottak még az igazságot is.
 
Te sohasem gondoltad volna, hogy elmondd nekem,
De én többet mondtam mit kellett volna.
Megvakított minket az utolsó nap fénye.
Két szó volt.
Két szó volt.
 
És én, mint egy kutya akinek nincs gazdája,
Elszöktem, futottam mint egy kisgyerek,
Emlékeztem, hogy néha a világ komoly.
Két szó volt.
Két szó volt.
 

Fell

Shaurma fell
Milk fell
Peace fell
Everything fell
 

Gnarled Cudgels Of Thunder

The hearse cloth weaved of rain
Is coldening by mist of twilight
By the grey grim shroud
It shall flow from the skies
 
Grandeur of clouds started to rush
Tearing out to the fragments
Deadly struck down into the ground
Gnarled Cudgels of Thunder
 
Unstoppable rage of lightning
Flashed by the cold shine
By the silver axe fiercely
Cleaving the expanse of air
 
Gnarled Cudgels of Thunder
Broke, crushed into pieces
The crucifixion above the Ancient Heathen Sanctuary, -
Leaving the ashes only…
 
Shame of dust be washed away by rain
From the bloody scars of Land
That was struck! Struck! Struck!
By the Gnarled Cudgels of Thunder
 
But yet the rain tears can’t wash out
The disgrace of christian domination
And years of pain wouldn’t be crushed
By the Perun’s Gnarled Cudgels!
 

Absent Dove

Five are the nights I cry
In the paths
Five are the written letters
Taken by the wind
Five are the black kerchieves
They are the witness
Of the five sorrows
I have inside me
 
Absent Dove
White Dove
Blooming Rose
 
I spend whole moons
Looking at the sky
With only one wish
On my mind:
That it doesn't comes down hurt
My dove
The one that comes molten
To the elements
 
It says, in a paper written
With green ink,
That with some patience
Everything can be reached
One that got it
Went to dance
From its garden to the Ark
Of the Covenant
 
A cage in the air
Is coming down
With all its bars
Of calamity
All the little birds
Are trilling
Although that, I can tell apart
My Swallow
 
I'm going to put on
A buttlefly's suit
Tomorrow, when it arrives
My dove
In the fingers, flags
Of three colors
And in the eyelashes, thousand
Of small candles.
 

On the little balcony of life

I'm sitting here drinking on the little balcony of life, there's a bottle on the floor
I'm erasing my love, so I can see where I'm going next
 
What dizziness, what drunkenness
The yearning still isn't gone
I'm drinking a love made of ivory straight from the glass
What dizziness, what drunkenness
The yearning still isn't gone
My heart has split in two and I'm giving it to you
 
I'm sitting here on the little balcony of life, whistling songs of the East
Songs that are like touching longing
And our love is on the floor, I see it and weep.
 
What dizziness, what drunkenness
The yearning still isn't gone
I'm drinking a love made of ivory straight from the glass
What dizziness, what drunkenness
The yearning still isn't gone
My heart has split in two and I'm giving it to you
 
-Βασιλική Οικονομοπούλου

I want to be a poet

I've learned how to walk
On top of the sun without burning my feel
I've been able to embrace it
Without feeling the heat they say it gives off
 
I've learned to fly
With the wind that blows just to see you
Even though you're so far
I'll come to look for you and later on, who knows
 
I want to be a poet
And tell you to your face
That I like you a little or, even better, madly
I want to be a poet
And beg you in person
To stay a little longer or, even better, forever
 
You scare me and I feel sorrow
Sorrow, little sorrow
 
I've learned to love you a little bit more every day
I've learned to forget you a little bit more every day
 
And I feel sorrow, little sorrow
 

Mimì and the Volleyball National Team Opening

Colorful suits, peanuts, ice creams
bubble gum, flags and us here
national team with the colors of the heart
Mimì, there's Mimì
 
Super duper great world championship
ah! ah!
I want a song to sing and scream
to Mimì, to Mimì
 
Mimimimimì, with your hands you embroider many stitches
spinning the way you do
beneath the invincible net you're the strongest one, you'll never lose
Mimimimimì, with your hands you throw things like hurricanes
you've got no opponents anymore
how hard it is to get up there
but tonight the winner is you!
 
Oh Mimì, oh Mimì
oh Mimì, oh Mimì
oh Mimì, oh Mimì...
 
super duper extra mega fast
you dunk, jump, spring, you beat everyone Mimì
you play just for the game without winning anything
oh Mimì, oh Mimì
 
Mimimimimì, with your hands you embroider many stitches
spinning the way you do
you're beneath the invincible net, the strongest one, you'll never lose
Mimimimimì, with your hands you throw things like hurricanes
you've got no opponents anymore
how hard it is to get up there, but tonight the winner
after a thousand sacrifices
tonight the great one is you...
 
Mimimimimì, with your hands you throw something like hurricanes
you've got no opponents anymore
how hard it is to get up there, but tonight the winner
after a thousand sacrifices
tonight the great one is you!
 
Unless a secondary source is specified below, you may use this translation wherever you want as long as you put a visible link to this page. Otherwise check the source.

One and another one

Winnings of love and game,
it's not more then a (temporary) borrowed thing,
now we have a lot
and now there's nothing left.
 
The one that plays and goes in winnings*
that he does not show himself cheerful (satisfied):
nobody knows when
luck changes from (one) owner (to another one)*.
 
The one who plays and loses must not
lose also the sense,
that going after the coming from behind
he shall see everything lost.
 
In the game of love
two things I've learnt:
not to become big headed if I've won
nor to get smaller if I've lost.
 
And that the second one comes, then!
 
Man is sent down here
already to play in life,
that my game is in life
luckily unknown.
 
Love is like the game
that if we go in winnings
gets close without you calling it
bringing its abundances.
 
Love is like the game
that when we are losing
it gets out of our hand
when we are not thinking (about it).
 
In the game of love
two things I've learnt:
not to become big headed if I've won
nor get to smaller if I've lost.
 

Like the sachero cat

I'm like the cat of the hill
who knows where my cave is?
If amidst pastures, thickets
by quebrachales or breñas
but if you know how to love me
you shall find me, my lady (litteraly: my owner)
 
Look for me in the thick hill (wood),
don't look for me in the footprint,
that love has its bends
where the souls meet.
 
Hunteress of my life
I wait for you in my lair.
 
My heart like ulúa
and fragrant open flower
quischcaloro bursting
little pigeons that wake up.
 
Come on, if you forget me
my pains become thorns.
 
In the thick vegetation of the hill (wood)
nobody knows my complaints
any branch shelters me,
If greed encloses me
I just fear the cold
of your forgetfulness and your absence.
 
But give me your love
to join our paths
that in the breñal of life
my pain turns into love.
 
My branch stirred with the wind
it seems that it beckons you.
 
My nails keep caresses,
my eyes drops of stars,
the night sings in murmurs
the beats of my wait.
 
And the tree of my lair
will have a new flower with you.
 

Song of remoteness

In my nights I see you in each star
and I call you and I look for you among dreams,
I break the promise that I recorded in my chest
and I return to the memory of when I loved you yesterday.
 
Love and hatre fight in my blood
in order to keep you or to burn you in their fires
all my reasons take you away from my life,
but there are so many wounds that you come back again.
 
Love, love of yesterday
my verses shout what I feel
and the moment that I live when remembering you
while I implore more light (hope) for my fortune (luck)
always looking for true love,
true love...
 
In my chest for my hopes
I have open the way again,
so the happiness that went away returns
and in another spring blooms love,
from failure I want to erase its shadows,
its ghosts of doubts and pains
and on another sky the star of my dream
will light my heart, happy again.
 
Love, love of yesterday
my verses shout what I feel
and the moment that I live when remembering you
while I implore more light (hope) for my fortune (luck)
always looking for true love,
true love...
 

The natural spring

Since I knew how to love I guessed
that God had created you for me.
Since you were seen on the same way where I went through
being sure I was going to find you, I looked for you.
 
Surrendered at your soles I understood
that my soul was in front of you,
I loved you from the moment I saw you
I love you and while I live I will love you.
 
As the stream returned to the natural spring
the waters of the sea will never come out,
it is the destiny that God gave us:
that our souls will not separate from each other.
 
The sea can indeed run between both of us,
the sea can indeed burn between the two,
our souls can indeed not exist,
but our love shall never die!
 
It is the destiny that God gave us,
that our souls will not separate from each other.
 

Tata viejoypa

Just like that dance!
 
Very beautiful, sweet!
 
cha rin chupita
 
The first one goes!
 
It is defining!
 
It's over!
 
In!
 
Stamp it your feet!
 
Good!
 

Two cultures when the homeland was born

Sixto says:
 
There goes what is missing!
 
The second is the translation of the first part.
 
Sung: 
 
In Quichua and in Spanish
written in two languages,
Act of Independence
the heroes gave it shape.
 
And just like it was carved
a document has remained
the language of this land
by the heroes respected.
 
The parents of our language
well, they were exterminated!
But it remains in Argentina,
and from these roots
we are Americans (from the continent of America),
that's why we preserve
the Quichua language speaking it.
 

Quichuizar the world

Declaimed:
 
Mother Earth of this world,
She has given birth to Quichua,
seven lives like the cat,
how much maltreatment has it (the Quichua language) suffered!
 
Sung:
 
My Argentinean compatriots:
Quichua is pure truth,
just like we do with our flag
we must respect it.
 
Language of our grandparents
none must ignore it (that fact),
the same as other languages
it deserves to be at par (at the same level with other languages, referring to the social conception of it).
 
I don't expect that Quichua*
surpass the others (the other languages),
but that either (I expect it to) be less:
it must be in from equal to equal.
 
We must seriously quichuizar*
our country,
(quichuizar the) entire America (continent)
and make it also global!
 

Santiagueña evocation

The dawn arrives,
the hill awakens,
the thrush warbles
and a chorus of little pigeons
sing my zamba next to the tunal.
 
Mornings of the hometown,
cloudless sky,
party of the sun
Santiago del Estero,
dear land of tradition!
 
Far away from my land
I want to evoke
with all my emotion
my Santiagueño hometown
that like the dream I see it
and the zamba carries away
my heart with these couplets.
 
To the second!
 
In!
 
In the burnt naps
white sadness of the salpetre mine,
freshness of carob trees
burning rounds under the talar.
 
Nights of salamanca*
rain of stars,
couplets of love.
The vidalera* moon
hit the box of the heart.
 
Far away from my land
I want to evoke
with all my emotion
my Santiagueño hometown
that like the dream I see it
and the zamba carries away
my heart with these couplets.
 

My little vine

Sung:
 
A little vine that I have
nobody will come to covet (it).
It already has a little bunch,
it gives me a sweet little grape.
 
I domn't compare it with anything,
it's a special little grape,
I sweetens me when I eat,
sure there is no other like it!
 
For no gold in the world
if they want to buy it from me,
I don't sell it nor change it,
my sweet, special little grape.
 
No pepitero comes
to peck my little grape,
I have my sling ready
without further ado I'll slingshoot it.
 
Declamed:
 
Those who look at her admire her
they call her 'moscatel',
I don't know what it may be for...
as sweet as honey.
 
Sung:
 
I have more fruit plants
and this one to mature
none like my little grape,
it can not be compared.
 
Keep the little plants
it just depends on caring,
all the care for them
more than to take care to adore!
 
They (the plants) always their nobility
give to us, they make us see,
pure nature
we must recognize.
 
Faithful woman
and the little plants
how noble they are,
they live to protect usl
of course, for life and for God!
 

Chacarera of the clucking

I had a hen
that complained with the cock:
'What a disgrace to be barefoot!'
from time to time she shouted at him.
 
The cock, half annoyed,
stopped to answer:
'Shoes with (having you) so many fingers,
where do you want to get that from? '
 
'You come with your graces
if I tell you the truth',
she said, 'If you don't buy me today
our friendship is over '.
 
The cock, very serene,
telling her he strolled:
'Barefoot I've met you,
today you prentend to be delicate'.
 
'You are a great deceiver,
you are always deceiving me,
you don't even remember your offsprings!
I maintain them rummaging (with effort) '
 
The cock said: 'Lately
I am constantly tolerating,
yesterday the ashe-coloured cock
was dragging your wing '
 
'Maybe because I'm already old,
you prefer the young one
no wonder now the chicks
(they all) come out grey'.
 
The hen told him:
'So far you have not learnt
when one looks at another
they always look alike'.
 

The story of a suffered one

This story of a suffered
I narrate in my chacarera
some struggles have come up
between this one and Palito Ortega.
 
Thirteen years just turned
already a man he absented himself
he arrived lost in Retiro
and some couplets he recited.
 
Already hot, he went away
the little foreigner,
also on radio and TV
setting fire couplets.
 
Then he went to Chile
through those long roads
he runs like a drum and hit it
the spell of being alive.
 
Let's go with the second!
 
Again in Buenos Aires
with the heart broken into pieces,
willing to return to hometown
disappointed by failure.
 
He had an extended trick
with a human feeling
he said 'I'll take you home',
it was his friend Dino Ramos.
 
And so his life to the stick
was already fencing him
when a day in rezadito
he already was received recording
on the prestigious hill
Palito* was baptized
because he was idol I was going to see him
I had already fathomed it.
 

The peasant's chacarera

They have praised it so much
that I finally resolved:
in order to get to know Buenos Aires
I went to that place (litteral translation: there).
 
Arriving in that Retiro
I got down there without further ado,
where the people were going
I also directed myself.
 
Those trolleys and trains
oh, electricity!
Mum of mine, oh what a danger
they are for traveling!
 
Cars pass and pass,
they pass without any stop,
I've stayed a whole day
without being able to cross (the street)!
 
In that subway they say
I went to nose about,
some things like sticks
I started to push.
 
Anyone can think:
'Sticks of corral',
if you don't give it coin
it doesn't let you pass.
 
There are trains in that hole
just like not to believe it,
if you saw: these are like bullets
to run!
 
Who may have invented that,
Súpay* may have been (who invented it)!
Man's intelligence
I can't believe it.
 

Kuska juntos

Cha rinsunqui huamajnencka
chaykuychi
 
Chayllapi
 
There goes the one missing!
 
In!
 
It's over!
 

Fourteen brothers

Fourteen departments*
of Quichua root,
that just like our elders
speak this rich language.
 
Today I dispose myself to name
to all of you in this way,
Atamishqui and Salavina
Robles and Avellaneda.
 
Rivadavia with Taboada
San Martin, also Loreto,
Silípica with Moreno,
Matará and Sarmiento enter as well.
 
Let's see, wait a bit
another part is missing
Capital enters (this enumeration) too
Figueroa is coming.
 
The Quichua speaking people
here I have already named to you,
those are the departments
that have preserved the language so far.
 

The hoarse one

First!
 
An Atamisqueño violin
trunk of couplet nights
I bring for the memory
this chacarera.
 
Guitar of hoarse voices
tapped my blood
gut strings united
and primas of wire.
 
She is the voice of rococo
about the colour of the west
torrent of the Sweet River (Mishqui Mayu)
voice of the growing river.
 
My hoarse chacarera
you will be my company
because hoarse are the couplets
of this pain of mine.
 
Second!
 
In!
 
And hoarse in the voice of man
who walks with his lost love
and his heart that sings
mutilated with wine.
 
Very hoarse she gave me her mouth,
hoarse as she knows how to love me,
very hoarse she told me at the time:
'You'll have to forget me.'
 
Hoarse is the voice of absence,
hoarse is the voice of consolation,
hoarse in the lip that comes up
behind your handkerchief.
 
My hoarse chacarera
you will be my company
because hoarse are the couplets
of this pain of mine.
 

The mother of the river

Spoken:
 
¡Cha rin huamajnencka! (There goes the first one)
 
That the first one goes!
 
Singing:
 
From river waters fish,
many may not know it,
with my violin and singing
now I will tell you.
 
In a bend of the Río Dulce
I've found a girl there,
distracted, she hasn't seen me,
I've arrived near her.
 
Getting outside the water
on the bank she had been,
there she was combing
with a fish backbone,
if she comes across with a handsome man
an interest moves her,
that's why this time I swear
I was afraid that she'd take me.
 
Recitation:
 
The beautiful mother of the river
had me totally enamoured
in one of my wanderings
we meet one day.
 
Cha rin chusajnencka!
 
There goes what is missing!
 
Singing:
 
Hair sunca* of corn
besides pretty and juna*,
I approached to speak it
she (moved apart from me and) plunge into the water.
 
Lookinf after the fish
she usually spends her time by the rivers
if they splurge when fishing
she begins be stingy with them.
 
I've seen her very well
with signs she was calling me
it was the fish tail
it was (had been) the mother of the river.
 
if she comes across with a handsome man
an interest moves her,
this time I wanted to follow her,
I was afraid that she'd take me.
 

The wandering (restless)

I'm looking for a girl,
where may she be?
Walking through long roads
I go without ceasing.
 
I went around Loreto
also by Suncho Corral
I went through the ravine and Matará.
 
I walked through Añatuya*, Campo Gallo* and Quimilí*
I will keep looking for her until I die.
 
She wasn't in Salavina*, Sumampa* nor Medellín*,
the passing birds weep for me.
 
Many suns have burned me
I'm so sad!
 
Moons saw me awake
I'm sobbing!
 
On the way back!
 
I went along the edge of the Salado River*,
I came back by April 7*,
going through Atamishqui
I arrived at Mailín.
 
I'll look for her by La Banda*,
Cañada Rita and Zorzal
Pampa Muyu*, Sinchi Caña* and beyond.
 
How many roads saw me
and how many villages, too,
in Campanitas* and El Charco*
I lost faith!
 

My bombo legüero

My verses in homage
to my bombo legüero,
we haven't left a corner
without frequenting, my companion.
 
We never missed it
he prayed in my trench,
it also accompanied us
the vidalera box.
 
He was born in the hills
of a ceibo se * with any
lined with leather and bizcacha
a chacarera song.
 
Luco, Luco
he has never liked
because he is a good peasant,
the raw leather soba'o
was his favorite group.
 
It was with Andrés Chazarreta*
as the best vidalero
with the Abalos (brothers) afterwards
also with the Chalchaleros.
 
Those tours throughout his places
made him reach the triumph,
now on radios and channels
he goes through all the bands.
 
And always from platform to platform
not even his face he has cleaned up
and so with that aspect
(he has been) everywhere early.
 
I always live in my ranch,
ranch where he has left me,
but I have the great pride
of a triumphant peasant.
 

Loretana mornings (zamba)

In!
 
The coyuyo* with its reveille
the entire jungle is waking up
the cacuy* in the morning
flee until the night comes back,
and very early in the morning
there in the distance
a cowbell is heard,
a person neglects her cattle,
which are leaving their filth behind as they walk.
 
Loretana morning
full of life
and full of sun,
full of colours
sweet and tasty
like the mistol*.
 
The second one is leaving!
 
In!
 
With the noise
of the susunas
the hill is coming
the chiritás
swinging the hip
and singing a vidalita*.
 
Also the cachi juanas
they have awakened the green junal*
the singing of the sachas*
it makes the quebrachal* shudder.
 

The crespín's moan

Cha cká ckaran ckpten crespín yachapi don Sixto, let's see.
 
And well chay rin (there it goes),
¡cha rin huamajnencka! (There it goes the first one!)
 
In!
 
Good, good!
 
Supas huackanchis huaucke
mayan kuchu huajachi.
 
¡Cha rin suq la chay pacha!
 

To the Singers of Salavina

Tuesday, October 15
they were notified,
Singers of Salavina *,
they've been called from heaven.
 
Osvaldo came back again
and thus to know where he's going,
taken by their destiny
they went to Nordelta *.
 
As news arrives
that with Tata * God they've gone away,
Tata (Father) God wants what's good
and from the good one he's served himself.
 
Salavina * is in mourning
three lives were extinguished,
those hunk lads:
Singers of Salavina.
 
Antonio, Víctor, Luciano
the three went away together,
bass drum, guitar, singing
towards our blessed heaven.
 
The customs of this land,
of our Argentine homeland.
They were messengers,
Singers of Salavina
 
The Quichua * never forgot
those divine lyrics,
they always sang things f our country,
Singers of Salavina.
 

When the sun dies (zamba)

In!
 
It breaks into
silver pieces at night
a thousand flakes of moons go lighting it
and the melody takes me in the wind
bringing the accent of an old singing.
 
The land wakes up
of its pure dreams,
dew drops
go watering it,
a bright old man
lights up in the distance
filling the emptiness
of my loneliness.
 
Destiny of star when it dies,
the light goes out at dawn,
but it will be reborn again
when the sun dies tomorrow.
 
In!
 
Its eyes will shine
bringing reflection,
dressing the night with a blue poncho
counting stars it will have a hope
dreaming in a bed covered with tulle.
 
Memories will pour out
carrying in time
towards infinity
a love song.
In open courses
marking a destiny
looking for a way
of light and colour.
 
Destiny of star when it dies,
the light goes out at dawn,
but it will be reborn again
when the sun dies tomorrow.
 

SUPERPALAV

Verse 1:
Superpower means I can stand(endure) all night long,
super-naughty means you haven't seen anything.
I enter sharply, like a mother in a kid's room
and I don't knock, but I make a compromise for you.
 
0-888-Papi-Hans.
immediately call for your chance,
come for Netflix and chill,
I'm not talking about romance.
 
All my traits are inferior,
if you have a need - just call me,
my number has no error.
How I envy that you met me.
 
Chorus:
Turn on the signal,
if you're not asleep.
I'm flying towards you,
I have super power -
I am super naughty.
 
Pa-parari-pa-parari-para... aaa, you get the idea here.
 
Verse 2: *
zdr. k.p.r.?
asl? pls!
me and you? v.n.l.
vs. dr. - vgz
 
Your exes are for warming up,
I have the secret ingredient -
I made a cake * once and Jamie Oliver
resigned.
 
Chorus:
Turn on the signal,
if you're not asleep.
I'm flying towards you,
I have super power -
I am super naughty.
 
Pa-parari-pa-parari-para-parari-theory-of-emancipation-volume-second-chapter-third-parara-parari
 
Bridge:
Invite me to your temple,
you just call me and I'm there,
you better watch out -
Be careful not to 'papi' * yourself.
 
Chorus:
Turn on the signal,
if you're not asleep.
I'm flying towards you,
I have super power -
I am super naughty.
 
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the two of us

tell me where i have already seen you
maybe in any photo in Instagram
My analyst says I should elaborate reality a little more
But now that you're here, with me, I can not
there is only the two of us , forget the others
like when we got out of clubs
 
with this thirst that touches my mouth and i take smooth vodka
inside my life pass some tourists , but when it stops for a little , there is no beautiful sight
i do not want to stay alone in the ground , i want to die rich that they can find me weighting in gold**
baby the beauty at times tricks feelings, smile, sadness hardens your features
Send me your photo of the position, not the one you are in but the one where you put yourself
I'm so cold I cry in small cubes,
Let's launch into the open space with emptiness
 
tell me where i have already seen you
maybe in any photo in Instagram
My analyst says I should elaborate reality a little more
But now that you're here, with me, I can not
there is only the two of us , forget the others
like when we got out of clubs
 
tell me how are you see that almost
Baby hold me tight, the lines on the hands are short
We do not mix tears with cocktails anymore,
because we have leather with studs,
but to us who fuck us**, we are two crooked moons,
we accelerate the heartbeats of the night
 
and now what will you do
you look me and ask me what do you have
now we are without plans and we are on the ground floor but if you lift me what will we plant?
 
Who knows tomorrow, for whom we will cry, you and me
 
tell me where i have already seen you
maybe in any photo in Instagram
My analyst says I should elaborate reality a little more
But now that you're here, with me, I can not
there is only the two of us , forget the others
like when we got out of clubs