Резултати претраге

Tamna je noć

Versions: #1
Click to see the original lyrics (Russian)
Tamna je noć
 
Tamna je noć,
Samo meci osvetljuju mrak,
samo vetar je tu muzičar,
jedva zvezde trepere.
U Tamnu Noć
Moja voljena ne spavaš, znam,
i kraj detinjeg kreveta ti
krišom otireš suze.
 
Što Volim Ja
Oka tvojega zanosni sjaj,
Kako bih ga
svojim usnama dotakao.
Ta Tamna noć
moja voljena, razdvaja nas
i ta strašna i crna stepa
odvaja me od tebe
 
Ljubim te ja,
moju prelepu draganu
i ta ljubav od metaka me
u tamnoj noći brani
 
Radostan sam,
mirno spavam u smrtnom polju,
Jer znam s ljubavlju grlićeš me,
šta god da mi se zbilo.
 
Ne bojim je se,
Smrt u polju je stalno kraj nas
Evo i sad
Nadamnom ona divlje vreba
Čekaš me ti,
i kraj detinjeg kreveta bdiš,
i zbog toga sam uveren da
ništa mi neće biti.
 

Song of the chauffeur of the frontlines

Across rivers, mountains, and valleys
Through fire, snowstorm, and black smoke
We drove cars, dodging mines
Along the roads of the frontline
 
Oh, road-path of the frontline
We are not afraid of any bombing
It's a bit early for us to die
We still have things to do at home
It's a bit early for us to die
We still have things to do at home
 
By the way, the path to Berlin for us
My friends, was not easy or quick
We walked night and day, it was very hard
Still the chauffeur did not release the wheel
 
Oh, road-path of the frontline
We are not afraid of any bombing
It's a bit early for us to die
We still have things to do at home
It's a bit early for us to die
We still have things to do at home
 
Maybe for individual civilians,
This song is a little unfamiliar
But we will not forget, no matter where we live
The well-driven roads of the frontline
 
Oh, road-path of the frontline
We are not afraid of any bombing
It's a bit early for us to die
We still have things to do at home
It's a bit early for us to die
We still have things to do at home
 
Oh, road-path of the frontline
We are not afraid of any bombing
It's a bit early for us to die
We still have things to do at home
It's a bit early for us to die
We still have things to do at home
 

I'm in a hurry

The moonlight is scattered above the plain,
There is no countryside, no fire long way out,
I’m going north now,
I’m in a hurry, excuse me.
On the cold great plains,
Beckoning to unlimited spaces,
(Trains rumble at junctions,
I’m in a hurry, excuse me.) x2
 
I’m telling you, as my best friend,
I don’t blame you for anything:
Please, prepare on your way on a deadline,
I’m in a hurry, excuse me.
You don't want? Well, you are right.
The rails flinched quietly, clinking,
(At least sit down with me before I'll hit the road,
I’m in a hurry, excuse me.) x2
 
Maybe you’ll repent somewhere.
Amidst the faraway afternoon,
Maybe, you'll recall it:
I’m in a hurry, excuse me.
You'll wish to have your time over again,
Appreciating distances and winds,
(That's all, I'm calling you from the Station,
I’m in a hurry, excuse me.) x2
 
You'll wish to have your time over again,
Appreciating distances and winds,
(That's all, I'm calling you from the Station,
I’m in a hurry, excuse me.) x2
 

For Three Years I Dreamed Of You

Versions: #1
I should compare you to the nightingale's song,
On a May morning in a quiet garden with a supple mountain ash,
As for my sour bird cherry trees in the misty distance
Those further most away, they are the most desirable.
 
How did it all happen, on what evenings?
For three years I dreamed of you, and we met yesterday,
I know no longer sleep, I want to keep this dream of mine
You my dear, I shall not compare to anyone else.
 
I would have to compare you to the most beautiful woman,
That touches his heart with her cheerful glance,
That on a gentle stroll an unexpected one came round,
She is the furthest away yet, and the most desirable
 
How did it all happen, on what evenings?
For three years I dreamed of you, and we met yesterday,
I know no longer sleep, I keep this dream of mine
You my dear, I shall not compare to anyone else,
You my dear, I shall not compare to anyone else.
 

White Cranes

Versions: #1
Sometimes I dream that every fallen soldier
Who on blood-soaked battlefield remained
Did not end up a piece of cannon fodder
But turned into a beautiful white crane
 
'till present day they soar high above us
Mournfully making their solemn call
Perhaps that's why with silent sadness
Gazing at them makes us feel so enthralled
 
The tired flock keeps flying in formation
Into the fog, as day and night become the same
I see a tiny gap, despite the elevation
Maybe this is a space that I can claim
 
Perhaps one day, as a majestic crane
In bluish haze across the sky I'll glide
My bird calls you'll hear, not in vain
To all my loved ones whom I left behind
 
Sometimes I dream that every fallen soldier
Who on blood-soaked battlefield remained
Did not end up a piece of cannon fodder
But turned into a beautiful white crane
 

Darkest of nights

Versions: #2
Darkest of nights, only bullets swoosh by in the steppe,
Humming wind's in the cables again, only stars lightly twinkling.
In this pitch black, you, my love, I know sleepless again
While at our child's bed, tears away, you are furtively wiping.
 
Oh, how I love, that great depth of your kind, lovely eyes,
Oh, how I want, just to feel my lips pressed, a, gainst them,
Darkest of nights, is dividing us, honey, right now
The alarming black darkness of steppe, coming now straight between us.
 
I do believe, I believe in you, my dear sweetheart
In the dark night, this steadfast belief spared me from a bullet
I am overjoyed, battle's deadly, but I'm staying calm,
I know you will still greet me with love, should bad tidings befall me.
 
Death is no threat, meeting us all the time in the steppe,
There's she again, above me, darkly spinning-whirling,
At our child's bed, you are waiting for me still, my love,
That's why I know that no harm to me, can and will ever happen.
 

The Cranes

Versions: #2
Nahum Grebnev (Nahum Rambach)
[from Rasul Gamzatov]
The Cranes
 
Sometimes I feel that all those fallen soldiers,
Who never left the bloody battle zones,
Have not been buried to decay and molder,
But turned into white cranes that softly groan.
 
And thus, until these days since those bygone times,
They still fly in the skies and gently cry.
Isn’t it why we often hear those sad chimes
And calmly freeze, while looking in the sky?
 
A tired flock of cranes still flies – their wings flap.
Birds glide into the twilight, roaming free.
In their formation I can see a small gap –
It might be so, that space is meant for me.
 
The day shall come when in a mist of ashen
I’ll soar with cranes, and final rest I’ll find,
From the skies calling – in a bird-like fashion –
All those of you, who I’ll have left behind.
 
Sometimes I feel that all those fallen soldiers,
Who never left the bloody battle zones,
Have not been buried to decay and molder,
But turned into white cranes that softly groan…
 
Poetic translation into English by Leo Schwartzberg © 2018
 

Dark is the night

Versions: #8
Dark is the night, only bullets that whistle and death,
Just the wind humming dull in the wires, dimly twinkle the stars.
On this dark night, you, my darling, I know don't sleep,
By the cradle, when no one sees, you're wiping the tears.
 
Oh, how I love, endless depth of your gentle blue eyes,
Oh, how I want, press my lips to them, right now!
Dark is the night, that divides my beloved you and I,
And this dark and anxious steppe, lies between us my love.
 
In you I believe, in my dear friend and my wife,
And this believe, saved from bullets me in the dark of the night...
Happy I'm, in this deadliest fight I'm in peace,
I do know, you will meet me with love, no matter what happens.
 
Death I don't fear, more than once we have met in the steppe.
Here and now it keeps circling and circling above me.
You're waiting for me, you don't sleep, rocking child in bed,
And that's how I know, with me, nothing will happen!