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Jacques Prévert - Le temps des noyaux Лирицс транслатион то енглисх


Translation

Hard times


Be forewarned you old guys
be forewarned you heads of families
the time when you gave your sons to the country
as one gives bread to pigeons
that time won't come again
resign yourself to it
it's over
cherry blossom time won't come again
nor cherry-stone time either
useless to moan about it
go to sleep instead
you're falling asleep
your shroud is freshly pressed
the sandman is coming
adjust your chin-straps
close your eyelids
the scavenger's coming to carry you away
it's over the three musketeers
now's the sewerman's time
 
The time when with a big smile in the subway
you asked us politely
two dots open quotes
are you getting off at the next stop.
young man
it was the war you were talking about
but you won't be giving us the fatherly patriotic treatment anymore
no my captain
no Mister Such and Such
no papa
no mama
we're not getting off at the next stop
unless we put you off ahead of us
we'll throw you out the door
it's more practical than the graveyard
it's gayer
quicker
cheaper
 
Whenever you drew straws
it was always the ship's boy you dined upon
but the time of joyous sinkings is past
when admirals fall at sea
don't count on us to throw them the lifebuoy
at least unless it's made of stone
or of flatiron
resign yourself to it
the time of the old old men is over
 
The time when you came back from the dress parade
with your children on your shoulders
you were drunk without having drunk anything
and your spinal cord
pranced with pride and joy
in front of the army barracks
your head went haywire
when the handsome horse-guards passed
and the military music
tickled you from head to toe
tickled you
and the kids you carried on your shoulders
you let them slide off into the colored mud
into the clay of the dead
and your shoulders became bowed
youth must pass by
you let it die
 
Honorable and highly respected men
in your neighborhood
you meet each other
you congratulate each other
you clot together
alas Alas dear Mister Babylas
I had three sons and I gave them
to the country
alas alas dear Mister of my two
me I gave only two
one does what one can
what do they expect of us
do you still have pain in the knees
and a tear in the eye
the false snot of mourning
a black band on the hat
feet nice and warm
funeral wreathes
and the garlic in the mutton
you remember before the War
the absinthe spoons the horse carriages
the hairpins
the torchlight retreats
ah how wonderful it was
those were the good old days
 
Shut up greybeards
stop running your dead tongue
between your false ivory teeth
the time of hair carriages
the time of horse pins
that time won't come again
right by fours
muster your old bones
the paddywagon
the hearse of the rich is coming
sons of Saint Louis rise up to heaven
the performance is over
this whole pretty world will get together again up there
near the Good Lord of Cops
in the yard of the Hall of Justice
 
To the rear grandfather
to the rear father and mother
to the rear grandfathers
to the rear Old Soldiers
to the rear old chaplains
to the rear old money bags
the performance is over
now for the kids
the show's about to begin
 

commented


Још текстова песама из овог уметника: Jacques Prévert

Сви текстови песама на овој веб локацији су само за личну и образовну употребу.

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I sit and watch
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And no, I just don’t understand
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I know it’s hard,
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Even though you've left
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I'll live
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even if I still don't know
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Without you,
I without you
will continue on alone
and I'll sleep.
 

I'll awaken,
I'll walk,
I'll work,
I'll do something,
 

I'll do something,
yes, I'll do something,
I'll do something for sure:
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Yes, I'll cry!
 

Without you,
I without you
will continue on alone
and I'll sleep.
 

I'll awaken,
I'll walk,
I'll work,
I'll do something,
 

I'll do something,
yes, I'll do something,
I'll do something for sure:
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Yes, I'll cry!
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I'll cry!
I'll cry!...
 


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Olé Nahal Village





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Tomatoes on a spear!
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Olé lettuce, Olé radish!
Olé tank harnessed to a mule,
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A soldier stands for sowing seed,
And a farmer knows to pinpoint shoot.
There is a Nahal who knows the mountains
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And it would be written in the report.
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Tomatoes on a spear!
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Olé tank harnessed to a mule,
Olé strawberry rangers,
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Olé Nahal village.
 

Here the wheat stands in tension,
Every tree is upright like a soldier.
And good orientation in the field
Would be proved by orderly onion beds.
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Cabbage heads stand without sound,
Even a fly on a nose is not disturbed,
Among the rows a whisper passes like a spell
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Olé cabbage and Olé spinach,
Tomatoes on a spear!
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Olé tank harnessed to a mule,
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And now that I tell you that I love you,
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~~~~~
 

Come on, I never hoped that you'd say yes
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