Dall'ultimo album dei DDT, Прекрасная любовь (2007)
Война бывает детская, до первого убитого,
Потом не склеишь целого из вдребезги разбитого.
Душа, брат, не оправится, исключена гармония.
Не мало видел я ребят на этой церемонии.
Не мало видел я ребят на этой церемонии.
Смотрю в его глазах тоску я как по телевизору,
А мирный дым, накрыв окно, плывет дорогой сизою.
И как не свежая роса, в стаканах водка мается,
И я молчу, и он молчит, а память не ломается.
И я молчу, и он молчит, а память не ломается.
Война бывает голая, веселая, ужасная,
Война бывает точная, в разгуле рукопашная.
Хожу-брожу проспектами, фонарики качаются.
Война бывает первая, a больше не кончается.
Война бывает первая, а больше не кончается.
Война кипит победная до первого сражения,
А после, брат, как и везде, сплошные умножения.
Бывает справедливая, бывает языкастая,
Для нас не очень длинная, паркетно-безопасная.
Для нас порой не длинная, паркетно-безопасная.
Стеной соседской лается жизнь старая и новая
А наша не меняется - все та же, брат, бедовая.
Сидим на кухне, празднуем. Жена придет сердитая
Война умрет под плитами последнего зарытого
Война умрет под плитами последнего убитого.
Вопрос: "Зачем и почему?" оставим без внимания,
Мудрец сказал: "Господь дает по силам испытания".
Пускай мы стали пьющими моральными калеками,
А все же, брат, не гнидами, а все же человеками.
А все же негниющими большими имяре-ка-ми
Потом не склеишь целого из вдребезги разбитого.
Душа, брат, не оправится, исключена гармония.
Не мало видел я ребят на этой церемонии.
Не мало видел я ребят на этой церемонии.
Смотрю в его глазах тоску я как по телевизору,
А мирный дым, накрыв окно, плывет дорогой сизою.
И как не свежая роса, в стаканах водка мается,
И я молчу, и он молчит, а память не ломается.
И я молчу, и он молчит, а память не ломается.
Война бывает голая, веселая, ужасная,
Война бывает точная, в разгуле рукопашная.
Хожу-брожу проспектами, фонарики качаются.
Война бывает первая, a больше не кончается.
Война бывает первая, а больше не кончается.
Война кипит победная до первого сражения,
А после, брат, как и везде, сплошные умножения.
Бывает справедливая, бывает языкастая,
Для нас не очень длинная, паркетно-безопасная.
Для нас порой не длинная, паркетно-безопасная.
Стеной соседской лается жизнь старая и новая
А наша не меняется - все та же, брат, бедовая.
Сидим на кухне, празднуем. Жена придет сердитая
Война умрет под плитами последнего зарытого
Война умрет под плитами последнего убитого.
Вопрос: "Зачем и почему?" оставим без внимания,
Мудрец сказал: "Господь дает по силам испытания".
Пускай мы стали пьющими моральными калеками,
А все же, брат, не гнидами, а все же человеками.
А все же негниющими большими имяре-ка-ми
envoyé par Mario Ferrero - 19/9/2009 - 14:51
Langue: anglais
Traduzione inglese / English Translation: Sean McWilliams
Lyrics Translate
Lyrics Translate
WAR IS CHILD'S PLAY
War is child's play, until the first death.
Then you won't be able to put the whole together from its broken pieces. [1]
The soul, brother, will never move on, all harmony's chased out of it.
I saw more than a few of the guys at that funeral.
I saw more than a few of the guys at that funeral.
I see the anguish in his eyes like I'm watching television, [2]
And the peaceful smoke over the windows flows down a gray road.
And the vodka languishes in the glasses like a stale dew,
And I'm quiet, and he's quiet, and the memories won't go away.
And I'm quiet, and he's quiet, and the memories won't go away. [3]
War is naked, merry, horrible,
War is real, in the chaos of the melee. [4]
I wander the streets, the lights reeling.
War is the first thing, and it's neverending.
War is the first thing, and it's neverending.
War bursts forth victorious, until the first battle,
And then, brother, like everywhere else, it keeps on spreading. [5]
It's just, it's blathering, [6]
Not very long for us, and not a desk job.
Sometimes not long for us, and not a desk job. [7]
Life, old and new, is fighting behind the neighbor's wall
But ours doesn't change - it's still full of fire, brother.
We'll sit in the kitchen, celebrate. The wife will come in angry
The war will kill the last of those buried under the stones.
The war will kill the last of those dead under the stones.
The question "Why?" we won't pay attention to, [8]
The sage said: "The Lord gives his trials according to strength."
Then let us become drunken, immoral cripples,
But all the same, brother, not scum, but all the same, still human.
But all the same great, immortal, and nameless.
War is child's play, until the first death.
Then you won't be able to put the whole together from its broken pieces. [1]
The soul, brother, will never move on, all harmony's chased out of it.
I saw more than a few of the guys at that funeral.
I saw more than a few of the guys at that funeral.
I see the anguish in his eyes like I'm watching television, [2]
And the peaceful smoke over the windows flows down a gray road.
And the vodka languishes in the glasses like a stale dew,
And I'm quiet, and he's quiet, and the memories won't go away.
And I'm quiet, and he's quiet, and the memories won't go away. [3]
War is naked, merry, horrible,
War is real, in the chaos of the melee. [4]
I wander the streets, the lights reeling.
War is the first thing, and it's neverending.
War is the first thing, and it's neverending.
War bursts forth victorious, until the first battle,
And then, brother, like everywhere else, it keeps on spreading. [5]
It's just, it's blathering, [6]
Not very long for us, and not a desk job.
Sometimes not long for us, and not a desk job. [7]
Life, old and new, is fighting behind the neighbor's wall
But ours doesn't change - it's still full of fire, brother.
We'll sit in the kitchen, celebrate. The wife will come in angry
The war will kill the last of those buried under the stones.
The war will kill the last of those dead under the stones.
The question "Why?" we won't pay attention to, [8]
The sage said: "The Lord gives his trials according to strength."
Then let us become drunken, immoral cripples,
But all the same, brother, not scum, but all the same, still human.
But all the same great, immortal, and nameless.
[1] More literally, "glue the broken whole from its pieces"
[2] Russian have made the claim that "тоска" is a most peculiar kind of sorrow that has no equivalent expression in other languages.
[3] Here I'm presuming that the end state of "память ломается" is to be free of the overbearing memories. More literally translating as "the memories won't be broken up" doesn't really work here.
[4] Very hard to translate here. "Точный" literally means "exact", "precise" and denotes a very exact quality. I struggle to describe it. "Разгул" means revelry, debauch, and usually describes happier circumstances (drinking parties, celebrations). Either of those words could be changed for the more-congruent "chaos".
[5] A literal translation runs "And after, brother, like everywhere, continuous multiplications." I give you that to chew on. Perhaps I'm missing something.
[6] Another tough line, "языкастая" can mean talkative, biting/sharp, evocative of flame in a way our language doesn't describe (tongues of flame), or simply long or skilled of tongue. What's going on here? I could only guess.
[7] Trying to communicate the idea in the other translator's notes that some "soldiers" never leave the office building.
[8] The distinction is not made in English between the words "зачем" and "почему", except perhaps as "why and wherefore?" "why and for what?", neither of which make the translation any better.
[2] Russian have made the claim that "тоска" is a most peculiar kind of sorrow that has no equivalent expression in other languages.
[3] Here I'm presuming that the end state of "память ломается" is to be free of the overbearing memories. More literally translating as "the memories won't be broken up" doesn't really work here.
[4] Very hard to translate here. "Точный" literally means "exact", "precise" and denotes a very exact quality. I struggle to describe it. "Разгул" means revelry, debauch, and usually describes happier circumstances (drinking parties, celebrations). Either of those words could be changed for the more-congruent "chaos".
[5] A literal translation runs "And after, brother, like everywhere, continuous multiplications." I give you that to chew on. Perhaps I'm missing something.
[6] Another tough line, "языкастая" can mean talkative, biting/sharp, evocative of flame in a way our language doesn't describe (tongues of flame), or simply long or skilled of tongue. What's going on here? I could only guess.
[7] Trying to communicate the idea in the other translator's notes that some "soldiers" never leave the office building.
[8] The distinction is not made in English between the words "зачем" and "почему", except perhaps as "why and wherefore?" "why and for what?", neither of which make the translation any better.
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