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Raymond Queneau - Si tu t'imagines dalszöveg fordítás angol nyelvre

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If you imagine

If you imagine
if you imagine
little sweetie little sweetie
If you imagine
this will this will this
will last forever
this season of
this season of
season of love
you are fooling yourself
little sweetie little sweetie
you are fooling yourself
 
If you think little one
if you think ah ah
that that rosy complexion
that waspy waist
those lovely muscles
the enamel nails
nymph thigh
and your light foot
if you think little one
that will that will that
will last forever
you are fooling yourself
little sweetie little sweetie
you are fooling yourself
 
The lovely days disappear
the lovely holidays
suns and planets
go round in a circle
but you my little one
you go straight
toward you know not what
very slowly draw near
the sudden wrinkle
the weighty fat
the triple chin
the flabby muscle
come gather gather
the roses the roses
roses of life
and may their petals
be a calm sea
of happiness
come gather gather
if you don’t do it
you are fooling yourself
little sweetie little sweetie
you are fooling yourself.
 
Raymond Queneau - Si tu t'imagines az Amazon oldalán
Raymond Queneau - Si tu t'imagines megtekintése a YouTube-on
Raymond Queneau - Si tu t'imagines meghallgatása a Soundcloud oldalán

Az előadó további dalszöveg fordításait megtalálhatod a következő linken: Raymond Queneau


A jobb oldalsávon található népszerű ikonok segítségével megnézheted, meghallgathatod vagy akár online meg is vásárolhatod a Si tu t'imagines dalszöveg fordításhoz tartozó zeneszámot.


Az oldalon található "Si tu t'imagines" angol nyelvű zeneszöveg magyar fordítás másként dalszöveg fordítás vagy lyrics fordítás csak személyes és oktatási célokra használható fel.
Raymond Queneau dalszövegeinek tulajdon és szerzői joga a szerzőket vagy a szám tulajdonosait illeti.



További dalszöveg fordítások

For It's Me Who Never Gets Tired of Loving

Versions: #4
In a hopeless moment,
everyone wants to love
if you're a little lucky,
why not?
If you're not sure of yourself, don't love
If you're happy without me,
Always stay that way.
 
If every night when you lay to sleep,
magical dreams mention me to you,
Hurry and wake up from your sweet sleep
because I can never sleep
when I think of you
 
For it's me who never gets tired of loving...
 

Manhunters

They'd like to bury us in jail.
They'd like to send us to hell.
The devil doesn't want us at all,
waiting for them for thousands of years already.
 
I mean the manhunters and desk criminals,
who have murdered us a million times,
already fear for their white collars.
 
When the Führer calls, they are there.
They can be bought for the worst disgrace
and they kill and think nothing about it.
They are the cause of every shooting.
 
I mean the manhunters and desk criminals,
who have murdered us a million times,
they already feel the noose around their white collars.
 
Manhunters, will you get it?
I don't know how many will perish because of you today.
But of one thing I can assure you:
Your machine guns will not reign forever.
 
You can hunt and massacre us,
for everyone you get two others will march.
You can obey, you can command.
And if you fight against us all, you will lose.
 
Manhunters, desk criminals, people's police, criminal investigators, NPD, fascists, sadists, CIA.
Neckermanns, Genscher, Springer, Krupp, all war profiteers.
Neubauer, Ruhnau, Nixon, Hübner, Schreiber and how they're all called.
Franz Josef, Rainer,
1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, watch the hand on the clock.
Paper tigers.
 
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(poetic)

My Life Belongs to Me

My life belongs to me.
My life—I hold it.
My life—in my hands.
My life—I bring it to life day after day.
It's my life.
It's me who chooses whom to like or dislike
according to my desires
without anyone ever ruling over my life.
 
I want to live it not just for a man
but thrilling at every moment that God gives me
for loves and fights of all kinds.
 
My life— I want that it grapples as well
with the opinions of others.
I want to live it by burning up all of my strength
even though I must pay the bill.
 
My life—do not touch.
My life—it is mine.
My life—not a right.
My life—that imposes on me things that affect
my life. It is I who chooses—
am I wrong?—too bad.
It hurts—thank you—
but I want to go only until the end of my life.
 
I want to live it not just for a man
but thrilling at every moment that God gives me
for loves and fights of all kinds.
 
My life— I want that it grapples as well
with the opinions of others.
I want to live it by burning up all of my strength
even though I must pay the bill.
 
My life belongs to me.
My life—I hold it.
My life—in my hands.
My life.
 
My life belongs to me.
My life—I hold it.
My life—in my hands.
My life.
 
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The Other Day in the Garden

The other day in the garden,
I heard her1 crying,
And I approached,
I told her, while sighing:
“Unhappy are the girls
Who trust their suitors.2
 
  • 1. Technically, it could also be “him,” but I think “her” makes more sense given the context of the final two lines.
  • 2. Or “admirers.”