2024.05.14.
Maria del Mar Bonet - La Segada del bon Moro dalszöveg fordítás angol nyelvre
English
The good Moor Harvest
IA few gentlemen from the Upper City
Have many fields,
A suite of slaves
And good incomes.
The wind is blowing in the flute
Of the gentlemen of the Upper City.
The gentleman is wearing a tailcoat
And a frock coat.
A lilac frock coat,
A gentleman from the Upper City.
Alas, the lady
Has a jewellery box
Such that the gentleman always stands gaping.
II
In winter, when the day falls,
-It's so cold and rainy-
Then the lady of the Upper City
Wants some new oil.
The new Fruitera oil:
There is no one so blue.
To look for her, Amed, the slave,
Must run.
Fruitera path
It's a ravine (o gully).
And the lady,
-ram-pa-ta-plam-,
With the oil would soak
All the lettuce.
III
He takes away,
A jug of oil, well-formed,
Which will leave the lady
Very nice.
In the kitchen, it rolls.
The jug broke.
Unfortunately, the oil is pouring
Like a stain.
And the foreman, what is doing ?
He gave him his oil.
And the lady –ram-pa-ta-plam
Will still have new oil
For the lettuce.
IV
- As Amed isn’t hard-hearted
He promises to the foremen
That he’ll come to harvest the wheat
When it will be ripe
When the works arrive
So arduous in June,
He’ll come, generous
The scythe in his fist.
A makeshift evening,
Turns the course of the moon.
Alas, of course,
Gentlemen don’t like
To stay so suddenly
Without the slave.
On the paths of the night
Amed is getting on board.
Who will capture
His boat?
When summer arrives
The field of wheat rips
Everywhere they harvest and beat,
Except in Fruitera
The neighbors ground
And bagged the wheat.
- Alas, foremen !
The gentleman shouts :
For life,
You will always harvest too early!
VI
The foreman is old,
He has heavy legs,
His hands which shake
Became fearful…
Amed will never come
Maybe he doesn't even remember.
Quite rightly, they would reserve
The hemp of a rope for him.
Foremen, for San Peter feast,
I want to see the wheat on the threshing floor!
VII
Alas, because the night,
- It’s very dark-
A boat of Moors
Approaches, dodges.
They harvested all the wheat
The sheaves are on the threshing floor!
They got up in the day
In the Fruitera Valley
And in the flash of light
The white sail
Flies, flies over the sea
Quiet and frank.
Az előadó további dalszöveg fordításait megtalálhatod a következő linken: Maria del Mar Bonet
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