A keresés eredménye

My faith

To multiply my beautiful nation,
I'll tell him what to do.
The Lord helps to make it so! Make it so!
Hungarian girl into the bed,
Hungarian lad into her arms.
This is my faith!
 
To make my beautiful nation smarter,
I'll tell him what to do.
The Lord helps to make it so! Make it so!
Hungarian teacher into the professorship,
Onto the altar of science.
This is my faith!
 
To prosper my beautiful nation,
I'll tell him what to do.
The Lord helps to make it so! Make it so!
Hungarian should plow on Hungarian land,
He should irrigate with Hungarian water.
This is my faith!
 
To make my beautiful nation happy,
I'll tell him what to do.
The Lord helps to make it so! Make it so!
Our mother should sing at our cradle,
Our father's merry song should be heard.
This is my faith!
 
If I'll die, my beautiful nation,
I'll tell him what to do.
The Lord helps to make it so! Make it so!
Bury me on Hungarian land,
Let new life grow out of me.
This is my faith!
 
I'm Hungarian, I'm free,
I'm at home on Hungarian land!
This is my faith!
 

Rocking Horse

The rocking horse is rocking under me,
A slingshot, a glass ball in my pocket,
I draw castles out of sand,
I protect it from every evil!
 
Sword in my hand, sword,
Fire in my heart, fire,
Man, trust and fight!
The wind can blow me, wind,
Why would I care, I,
Who's lousy worth nothing!
La-la-la-la-la.
 
I got to a bad school,
Cheat sheets lurked in my pocket,
I belived that everything is beautiful and good,
But life is a rougher teacher than this!
 
I work, I respect the law,
But I have a knuckle slipped in my pocket,
Although you have to look at the good side of things,
You better prepare for bad faces!
 
I got old in fairness,
But the slingshot and knuckle are still in my pocket,
Beneath me, the rocking chair is rocking,
And if I could start it all over, I would live the same way
 

I Want Names

I want to hear names, who are the executioners of '56?
Who brought judgment over a clean revolution?
 
Because a crime is still a crime, blood stains their hands
Don't expect mercy from man nor God
Thousands of victims now rise from their graves,
Murderers and traitors, shall not rest in sacred land!
 
I want to hear names, I cannot forgive,
For the long prison years, for the dust befallen tears
 
Because a crime remains a crime, blood stains their hands,
Don't expect mercy from man nor God
Thousands of victims now rise from their graves,
Murderers and traitors, shall not rest in sacred land!
 
Wittner, Mária:1
'Now the world expects us, out of pure Christian mercy,
to forgive, and move on? Forgive those who trampled children with tanks? Who lead the firing squad?
Forgive the massacres? The many years of cruel oppression?
Forget, that Hungarians were buried faced down?
That for many, emigration was the only option?
Forget the horrors of the torture? The last words of the death sentenced?
Forgive, and history will judge?!
Well no...
No, and no!'
 
Because a crime remains a crime, blood stains their hands,
Don't expect mercy from man nor God
Thousands of victims now rise from their graves,
Murderers and traitors, shall not rest in sacred land!
 
Because a crime is still a crime, blood stains their hands
Don't expect mercy from man nor God
Thousands of victims now rise from their graves,
Murderers and traitors, shall not rest in sacred land!
 

• 1. 1956 revolution survivor and freedom fighter, 19 year old single mother - imprisoned for 12 years (her son was 1 years old)

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Hungarian Chant

Like a whileback, on the borders of Transilvania
the aroused last bison.
That's how you stand my people, so dreaded, so alone,
The wild of your sorrow's trembling lap.
 
And I, ike your blood's pulsating song,
How it rest's on your feverish lip.
I'm the song, which cries into the night
and sings your faith's mourn like this:
 
In the everything let there be so much painful cries
as much as many hungarian clot will be taken away from here.
Even if i have to dig with my ten nails,
i'll dig up the dead from the ground.
 
Let them stare into the sky, around the borders,
their prohibitory arms infinite line.
And in the sky, let there stand with flaming letters
a burning, dedicated, grim word: Never.
 
Lord, I'll let you know, i don't want to live
Only on hungarian land, and only hungarian.
If sin, that i can't change my soul,
It is better, if my wings fall into dust.
 
But i leave this soul here forever,
and it's going to squawk in the snowy Carphats.
And i'll cry into every ancient clot,
Go away thiefs, this is my home.
 
And i'll be shame and i'll be ignomy,
and i'll burn on every forehead.
And like hiding mourn my pretty home
i'll cry back from the Lord.
 
And i'll blow my trombone of my faith,
Every bier will be Cradle.
From the Snowy Carphats until the Crystal Blue Adriatic Sea
There will be one country here, only one, and hungarian.
 
Botesz

I Am Nicholas Horthy's Soldier

I am Nicholas Horthy's soldier, his finest soldier.
I gaily live my soldierly life, I have no care for anything else.
I march at my corporal's word,
I so think of my Violet,
I am Nicholas Horthy's soldier, his finest soldier.
 
They delivered my draft notice, o my mother, my soul.
Cry not so bitterly, because I have to go.
The captain will take care of me,
Nicholas Horthy will be my dear father,
I am Nicholas Horthy's soldier, his finest soldier.
 
With forget-me-nots the trench is full, how fair their blue,
Dress up, fair girls of Csik, in festival white.
Pick the garden's violets,
So await Horthy's soldier(s)!
I am Nicholas Horthy's soldier, his finest soldier.
 
I am Nicholas Horthy's soldier, proud I am of it,
Therefore became I fair Hungary's brave soldier,
Her three-colored flag I unfurl,
And my life for it I will spill,
I am Nicholas Horthy's soldier, his finest soldier.
 

Pálinka (traditional Hungarian distilled spirit)

The good Hungarian pálinka
Has no equal
Has no equal
It's standing alone just like the Hungarian nation
in the whole world
in the whole world
Made of plum, pear and cherries
Long live the country!
Drink to our health! (traditional way of cheering before shots)
 
The good Hungarian pálinka
Has no equal
Has no equal
 
Gold and diamonds make up
every drop of it
every drop of it
It's just like a fiery
young maiden
young maiden
Made of plum, pear and cherries
Long live the country!
Drink to our health!
 
Gold and diamonds make up
every drop of it
every drop of it
 
It's medicine for any
ailments
Will heal them all
That's why Hungarian men go
to the csárda (traditional name for a pub serving hot food & drinks)
to the csárda
Made of plum, pear and cherries
Long live the country!
Drink to our health!
 
It's medicine for any
ailments
Will heal them all
 
It's strong like triple sewn
boot shafts
boot shafts
That will be worn when we march into
Kolozsvár (Hungarian name for the Transylvanian town of Cluj)
Kolozsvár
Made of plum, pear and cherries
Long live the country!
Drink to our health!
 
It's strong like triple sewn
boot shafts
boot shafts
Made of plum, pear and cherries
Long live the country!
Drink to our health!