2024.04.27.
Uc - Sa lluna pagesa dalszöveg fordítás angol nyelvre
Translation
The Peasant's Moon
This peasant's moon
Is more of a moon here, than anywhere else.
It rose both big and bright:
Now, it has become yellowish.
It doesn't see a cart nor a mule anymore,
Nor the cattle as it's brought in.
If it's bored, it conceals it,
Both as high and bright as an eye.
The hen has been sleeping for long
And the boys are now in bed.
Chimène tells her half-asleep man:
'Hey, come here'.
She ignores minor things,
The moon. It wants an open countryside.
Irrigation canals, pine trees, paths, thickets:
She watches everything with an expert air.
She's a friend to the barn owl,
The frog and the marten.
(Those who sleep and those who go hunting
And those who never see that they're late).
It watches over the wind, which is always blowing
And the ever-nascent source,
And the wave on the sand
And, with a yawn, over myself.
Still, some couples
Aren't willing to go to sleep.
The old woman raises an eyebrow.
The other eyes closes: 'As for me...'
Dead tired, tucking oneself into bed,
'I don't know what some people are thinking'
One muses. 'Some are making love,
And tomorrow it's Monday.'
There are nights full of misfortune.
In an unhappy hour, a debtor
Counted money in vain, and he saw
The moon through his dormer window.
A rabbit thinks: 'That's the life!'
A dog feels a sweet desire.
The moon, always cheerful,
Pushes a cloud aside.
And she looks over the plain once again,
The mountains and far away, the sea.
'Good night', in a bad mood
Someone says (and the rooster wants to sing!)
Wealthy men: 'So much light is wasteful
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