Source text in English — View comments about this source text » | Translation by crocox (#14896) — Winner |
Sunday Mornin' Comin' Down Well, I woke up Sunday morning With no way to hold my head that didn't hurt. And the beer I had for breakfast wasn't bad, So I had one more for dessert. Then I fumbled in my closet through my clothes And found my cleanest dirty shirt. Then I washed my face and combed my hair And stumbled down the stairs to meet the day. I'd smoked my mind the night before With cigarettes and songs I'd been picking. But I lit my first and watched a small kid Playing with a can that he was kicking. Then I walked across the street And caught the Sunday smell of someone's frying chicken. And Lord, it took me back to something that I'd lost Somewhere, somehow along the way. On a Sunday morning sidewalk, I'm wishing, Lord, that I was stoned. 'Cause there's something in a Sunday That makes a body feel alone. And there's nothing short a' dying That's half as lonesome as the sound Of the sleeping city sidewalk And Sunday morning coming down. In the park I saw a daddy With a laughing little girl that he was swinging. And I stopped beside a Sunday school And listened to the songs they were singing. Then I headed down the street, And somewhere far away a lonely bell was ringing, And it echoed through the canyon Like the disappearing dreams of yesterday. On a Sunday morning sidewalk, I'm wishing, Lord, that I was stoned. 'Cause there's something in a Sunday That makes a body feel alone. And there's nothing short a' dying That's half as lonesome as the sound Of the sleeping city sidewalk And Sunday morning coming down. | Dimineaţă de duminică M-am trezit duminică de dimineaţă Neştiind cum să-mi ţin capul ca să nu mă doară. Berea pe care am băut-o la micul dejun n-a fost rea, Aşa c-am mai tras una la desert. Apoi am scotocit în dulap printre hainele mele Şi am găsit-o, printre cămăşile murdare, pe cea mai curată. Pe urmă m-am spălat pe faţă şi m-am pieptănat Şi-am coborât împiedicat pe scări să-ntâmpin ziua. Îmi afumasem zdravăn mintea în noaptea dinainte Cu ţigarete şi cântece ciupite la chitară. Cu toate astea una mi-am aprins şi am privit un puşti Jucându-se cu o cutie de conserve-n chip de minge. Apoi am traversat strada Şi-am prins din zbor mirosul de duminică al unui pui ce se prăjea, Şi, Doamne, asta mi-a amintit de ceva ce pierdusem Undeva, cumva, de-a lungul drumului. Pe un trotuar de dimineaţă de duminică, Îmi doresc, oh, Doamne, să fiu beat. Căci e ceva în ziua de duminică Ce face omul să se simtă-nsingurat. Şi, cu adevărat, doar moartea Pe jumătate la fel de singuratică-i ca sunetul Trotuarului dintr-un oraş ce doarme Şi-al dimineţii de duminică. În parc am văzut un tătic Legănând o fetiţă ce râdea. Şi m-am oprit lângă o şcoală de duminică Şi-am ascultat cântecele pe care le cântau. Apoi am luat-o în jos pe stradă, Şi undeva în depărtare bătea un clopot singuratic, Şi răsuna în toată valea La fel ca visele de ieri ce dispăreau. |
Discussion about Poetry with a tune: "Translation of Lyrics" in English to Romanian - Entry #14896 | |||||||||
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Alexandranow Romania Local time: 03:16 Romanian to English + ...
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maria martin Norway Local time: 02:16 English to Romanian + ...
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crocox Romania Romanian to English + ...
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crocox Romania Romanian to English + ...
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