A keresés eredménye

In the fields of riped wheat

1.My girl who reaps the wheat
Good looking, of lily-lips
sweat droplets in your forehead
Wait my girl, to wipe them a little.
 
2.No my boy these golden droplets
You don’t wipe off of my forehead
Your girl wants nothing else
besides them for jewelry.
 
- Chorus 2x
Gracefully the wind plays with wheat stalks
And hearts beat side by side
Dreams get weaved by the two youths
In that field with golden wheat
 
3.My good looking of moon arch-brow
Wait a bit and stop for a moment
Let me remove that stalk of wheat
Let me take it of your hair
 
4.No my boy, that wheat stalk
You don’t touch it with your hand
Your girl wants nothing else
Besides them for a garland.
 
-- Chorus 2x
.............
 

Kostya Perestukin

Kostya Perestukin is a courteous man,
Kostya is very kind and responsive.
Kostya Perestukin is a useful man,
Kostya is very watchful, not oblivious.
 
He rotates back and forth
The egg of his head.
Kostya's face
Glimpses, as usual,
In the thick of all events.
 
Kostya Perestukin is breathing very evenly.
He doesn't drink, smoke, he is conscientious.
Kostya see a lot of things, hear a lot of things,
And in fact, he is very observant.
 
He rotates back and forth
The egg of his head.
Kostya's face
Glimpses, as usual,
In the thick of all events.
 
The best friend is a notebook.
Kostya never breaks up with it.
It’s everywhere with him, not a step without it.
He even always sleeps cuddling with a book.
 
The rain is over, but drops from the roof
Knocked, knocked on the cornice.
Day and night Kostya hears perfectly well,
Strictly following his slogan:
I'd rather knock too much than too little,
I'd rather knock too much than too little,
I'd rather knock too much than too little.
 
The shadow of his big ears
Slides quietly above the ground.
 

The Song About Yossi The Parrot

They will buy me a parrot and his name will be Yossi
i will talk with him at times when no one else will hear
and i will say to him, I will say:
sadness is like a glass
which contains bitter wine
from the grapes of the soul.
 
Know, Yossi the Parrot, that you are a child for shooting
expect a quiet death
so quiet
and so I in my illuminated grief
will whisper to the walls, Yossi is dead
Yossi is dead.
 
And your ashes will be returned from the cage to your homeland
from the white cage to the yellow dirt
childless, without a parrot mate and offspring
to a parrot like you if forbidden to love
 
You will never love, Yossi, Yossi
Never.
 
Like you were born to make pleasant chatter
with every poet, in whose heart is fire and anger
between hearts uncaring and sinning
 
Like you they are just a toy at home
for the benefit of the children to play with
chatter, Yossi the Parrot
i am a little comforted
my heart today in empty...
 

amazarashi - hakisou da ''Nauseated'' (吐きそうだ)

Versions: #2
amazarashi - Nauseated
 
What is ''a reason to live''? Is it something as small as a morning cup of coffee? Or like countless nights of drinking? Cause I might just vomit from the first hangover.
 
Though I've moved into a new house, I'm still close friends with the western sun.
 
Peace of mind comes once you've settled into a new life, and I'm an uncommitted daydreamer.
 
I remember the landscapes hazily, those old days are like black-and-white photos.
 
I've killed ''me'' so many times, but that bloodstained ''me'' still dwells in my mind.
 
Momentarily reflected in the window at night, his eyes are ghostly and reproachful.
 
''Come back here whenever you'd like''
 
Whenever he says that, it takes so much effort to stay put: talking myself out of my own values, playing with words just to prove him wrong.
 
If you strip off my façade layer by layer, inside my head is an absolutely, loathsome person.
 
That's no surprise.
 
A fully exposed person isn't much different from an animal in the first place.
 
So basically, I'm the only one at fault. How many times has that been the punchline?
 
What is ''a reason to live''? Is it something as small as a morning cup of coffee? Or like countless nights of drinking? Cause I might just vomit from the first hangover.
 
What is ''a reason to live''? Is it something as small as a morning cup of coffee? Or like countless nights of drinking? Cause I might just vomit from the first hangover.
 
In an instant, an infinitesimal flash changes our lives.
 
But I think it's wrong to worship that flash like a god.
 
That naive sense of self-worth has bent the knee to reality.
 
And the tune of resentment on our lips has really cut deep.
 
I'm still grateful for that flash, but it's just become an excuse for laziness.
 
By only wanting to lord over those who've treated me like a fool, I've become a show-off, like some kind of vain exhibitionist.
 
At the end of the rat race, we're ashamed of the meaninglessness of such an existence.
 
But in the end, we've all contributed to the intention of the masses.
 
So given that, just get back to claiming to be the cutest, you pack of animals!
 
What is ''a reason to live''? Is it something as small as a morning cup of coffee? Or like countless nights of drinking? Cause I might just vomit from the first hangover.
 
What is ''a reason to live''? Is it something as small as a morning cup of coffee? Or like countless nights of drinking? Cause I might just vomit from the first hangover.
 
Life is a desolate breakwater overlooking the shores, rusting in the ocean spray.
 
But calling it so is an aimless way to live, so I'll tack on a half-hearted ''even still''.
 
Nowhere to belong, nowhere to go.
 
Even my soot-stained spirit is beyond my control.
 
I push my heavy legs forward, dragging along the regret of pretending not to have regrets.
 
Stop complaing. Stop whining.
 
Stop dreaming of becoming someone spectacular.
 
Just put up with it. Even if you give it your all and lose your way, don't turn back.
 
Live kindly, with a strong sense of duty.
 
Pay back favours.
 
Don't rack up debt.
 
That's loving selflessly. Is that loving selflessly?
 
Or is that just egotism? God, I hate this!
 
What is ''a reason to live''? Is it something as small as a morning cup of coffee? Or like countless nights of drinking? Cause I might just vomit from the first hangover.
 
What is ''a reason to live''? Is it something as small as a morning cup of coffee? Or like countless nights of drinking? Cause I might just vomit from the first hangover.
 

Sweet water (fresh water)

Versions: #2
My love is like a desert land
doesn't give herself easily, if at all
To my performances she is no audience
Even though she wants me already
She turns down (reject) all manners of a wooer
It is actually (specialy) then, that I love her more
 
My love is like a desert land
She has a shiny and purity cleanliness
that if I'm a bit dirty
Even though she already wants me
She won't let me get near, she won't accede
It is actually (specialy) then, that I love her more
 
She doesn't like it when I talk
She says I'm lying,
even in silence (when I'm silent)
As if I'm not worth
even a spit
 
She certainly doesn't forget
And still, doesn't forgive
For long long days
She would have left a long time ago
If she hadn't thought
That she would find fresh (sweet?) water in me.
 
My love is like a desert land
pricks like flint, stings like a scorpion
penetrates the bone like a cold East wind
Even though she already wants me
She dries me out to see if I'd stay
It is actually (specialy) then, that I love her more
It is actually (specialy) then, that I love her more
It is actually (specialy) then, that I love her more.