So, I know that there are plenty of tropers here who do not speak English as their first language, or anyway know another language apart from English. So I was thinking it would be nice if we could post some of our favourite songs in non-English languages, together with their translations.
Let me start with a song by Angelo Branduardi:
Gli alberi sono alti — The trees are tall
The trees are tall, the leaves grow green From how much time were you not seeing your love, From much, and now he returned all alone: he's young, but he will grow.
Father, my father, you did me a great wrong: you gave me as a wife to who is little more than a kid he's fifteen years old, and I'm almost twenty he's young, but will he grow?
Daughter, my daughter, I never did you wrong: I gave you as a wife to the son of a Lord, your own child will be rich and respected:\\
he's young, but he will grow.
Father, my father, tomorrow I'll be alone, They will send him away for one more year When he'll come back he'll have a child, to him a stranger, he's young, but will he grow?
Yesterday, in the morning, sitting on your terrace\\
you spied on the boys playing on the road your true love was the most handsome of them all he's young, but he will grow!
Another year, and he had taken wife, time passes, and he's the father of a child,\\
time runs, and your flower on his grave is young, but it will grow...
edited 27th Sep '14 3:36:44 PM by Carciofus
But they seem to
know where they are going, the ones who walk away from Omelas.
So, I know that there are plenty of tropers here who do not speak English as their first language, or anyway know another language apart from English. So I was thinking it would be nice if we could post some of our favourite songs in non-English languages, together with their translations.
Let me start with a song by Angelo Branduardi:
Gli alberi sono alti — The trees are tall
The trees are tall, the leaves grow green
From how much time were you not seeing your love,
From much, and now he returned all alone:
he's young, but he will grow.
Father, my father, you did me a great wrong:
you gave me as a wife to who is little more than a kid
he's fifteen years old, and I'm almost twenty
he's young, but will he grow?
Daughter, my daughter, I never did you wrong:
I gave you as a wife to the son of a Lord,
your own child will be rich and respected:\\ he's young, but he will grow.
Father, my father, tomorrow I'll be alone,
They will send him away for one more year
When he'll come back he'll have a child, to him a stranger,
he's young, but will he grow?
Yesterday, in the morning, sitting on your terrace\\ you spied on the boys playing on the road
your true love was the most handsome of them all
he's young, but he will grow!
Another year, and he had taken wife,
time passes, and he's the father of a child,\\ time runs, and your flower on his grave
is young, but it will grow...
edited 27th Sep '14 3:36:44 PM by Carciofus
But they seem to know where they are going, the ones who walk away from Omelas.