Rezultatele căutării

Rața Ioanei

Rața
Ioanei
A murit in vâscul de'an nou..
Făcuse bătrâna,
Ce minune,
Un ou
 
Rața
Ioanei
A murit, c-a făcut,
Credem noi, de nu-i bai,
Un sever
Guturai!
 
Rața
Ioanei
A murit pe-al sau ou
In costumu-i frumos
De pene,
Cel nou!
 
Rața
Ioanei
Nelăsând văduvoi,
Penele
Si oul,
Le-am moștenit noi
 
Cu toții,
Desigur,
Păstra-vom, multa vreme, un gând
Pentru rața
Ioanei
Pe cuvânt!
 

The health bulletin

I lost my jowls, I lost my paunch
And this in a way so clear, so sudden
That some suppose I have in me an evil that does not forgive
Who laughs at Aesculapius and leaves him stunned
 
The Loch Ness monster no longer bringing its dime
During hollow times in certain gazettes
Systematically, obituaries like
To shroud me under sausage wrapper1
 
Now, tired of serving as a punching ball
Of the gloomy tales I'm the star of 2
I, who am well, who breathes health
I step forward and scream the whole truth
 
All the truth, gentlemen, I deliver it to you
If I left the ranks of the over-two-hundred-pounds
It's the because of Mimi, Lisette, Ninon
And many others, I don't remember names
 
If I betrayed the fat, the chubby, the obese
It's that I fuck, that I fuck, that I fuck
Like a buck, a ram, a beast, a brute
I am haunted: the heat, the heat, the heat, the heat
 
Let me be understood, I have the soul of a satyr
And his behavior, but that doesn't mean
That I have the talent, the genius, far from it
Not a single one yet shouted “bravo!' to me
 
Among other fine flowers, I count on my pink
List a decent number of journalists' wives
Who, thinking I'm done, put all their faith
To give me happiness one last time
 
It's beautiful, it's generous, it's big, it's magnificent
And, in the most pornographic positions
I give them the honors with the buttocks down
On piles of drafts, piles of unsold
 
And that's what makes that when your legitimate (wife)
Show their buttocks to the people as well as to your intimate friends
You can often read, printed backwards
The echoes, the little gossip, the in-briefs
 
And if you hear surging through the plinths
From the boudoir of these ladies groans and complaints
Do not say: 'It is Uncle Georges who is expiring'
It's just the angels who sigh 3
 
And if you hear screaming like in (nineteen)fourteen
'Arise ! Arise the dead! », Do not bulge the torso
It's the exalted wife of an editor
Which prompts me to assault once again
 
Certainly, it happens to me, flip side
To sometimes leave feathers in battle
Hippocrates says: 'Yes, these are cockscombs'
And Gallien replies: 'No, it's gonococci'
 
Both are right, sometimes Venus gives you
Wicked kicks that a good Christian forgives
Because if they cause harm to manly attributes
They seldom endanger existence
 
Well, yes, I have all that, ransom of my frenzy
The boat for Kythera is quarantined
But I haven't yet, no, no, no, three times no
This mysterious evil whose name we hide
 
If I betrayed the fat, the chubby, the obese
It's that I fuck, that I fuck, that I fuck
Like a buck, a ram, a beast, a brute
I am haunted: the heat, the heat, the heat, the heat
 

• 1. Litt: 'Cabbage leaves', newspapers
• 2. Untranslatable, 'À dormir debout' means 'unbelievable', so here unbelievable + gloomy
• 3. Euphemism for 'Orgasm'

Reputație proastă

La mine-n sat, e lucru știut,
Nu-s deloc bine văzut,
Fie că fac, ori că nu fac
Nu sînt la nimenea pe plac
Și totuși nu fac nimănui vreun rău
Dacă îmi văd de drumul meu
Dar oamenii serioși cu toții vor
Să calc și eu pe drumul lor
Da, oamenii serioși cu toții vor
Să calc și eu pe drumul lor
Toată lumea mă birfeste
'N afar' de surdo-muți, firește
 
De sărbătoarea națională
Rămîn în pat sub plăpumioară
Fanfara ce mărșăluiește
Pe mine nici că mă privește
Și totuși nu fac nimănui vreun rău
Dacă trompetă nu e pe gustul meu
Dar oamenii serioși cu toții vor
Să calc și eu pe drumul lor
Da, oamenii serioși cu toții vor
Să calc și eu pe drumul lor
Cu degetul de toți sînt arătat
'N afar' de ciungi, e-adevărat
 
Cînd dau peste vre-un hoț pirlit
De vreun țărănoi urmărit
Întind piciorul, și de ce să mint
Pe țărănoi pe jos mi ți-l întind
Și totuși nu fac nimănui vreun rău cînd
Las să scape un un biet hoț flămînd
Dar oamenii serioși cu toții vor
Să calc și eu pe drumul lor
Dar oamenii serioși cu toții vor
Să calc și eu pe drumul lor
Cu toții sar, toți dau năvală
'N afar' de-ologi, fără-ndoială
 
Nu tre' să fii vreun Irimie
Că să ghicești ce mi-e scris mie
O funie bună cumva dac'or găși
Mi-or pune-o de gît cît ai clipi
Și totuși nu fac nimănui vreun rău
Dacă Roma nu-i pe drumul meu
Dar oamenii serioși cu toții vor
Să calc și eu pe drumul lor
Da, oamenii serioși cu toții vor
Să calc și eu pe drumul lor
Toți vor să mă vadă spînzurat
'N afar' de orbi, e-adevărat.
 

Cintec pentru oamenii din Auvergne

Cintecul asta e al tau
Om bun ce fara un cuvint
Mi-ai dat un lemn fara sa-ti cer
Cind in viata-mi era numai ger.
Tu care mi-ai dat de-un foc cind
Toti cei din jur mai cu noroc
Oameni cinstiti si de cuvint
S-au bucurat sa ma vada plecind
 
Nu era mult, era un lemn
Dar care trupul mi-a incins
Si inca-n suflet sta aprins
La fel cu-n foc pe veci nestins
Om bun atunci cind vei muri,
Si-atunci cind cioclii vor veni
Te-oi insoti cu gindlul meu
La bunul dumnezeu
 
Cintecul asta e al tau
Taranca, tu, care mi-ai dat
Fara sa-ti cer un biet coltuc
Cind n-aveam nimic sa imbuc
Usa colibei mi-ai deschis cind
Toti cei din jur oameni din sat
Oameni cinstiti si de cuvint
Rideau cind ma vedeau flamind
 
Nu era mult, o piine doar
Dar care trupul mi-a incins
Si inca-n suflet sta aprins
Ca un ospat de demnitar
Taranca, tu cind vei muri
Si-atunci cind cioclii vor veni
Te-oi insoti cu gindlul meu
La bunul dumnezeu
 
Cintecul asta e al tau
Strain ce fara un cuvint
Cu jale-n suflet mi-ai zimbit
Cind potera m-a dibuit
Si care n-ai aplaudat cind
Toti cei din jur, oameni din sat
Oameni cinstiti si de cuvint
Rideau cind m-au incatusat
 
N-a fost prea mult, un zimbet doar
Dar care trupul mi-a incins
Si inca- n suflet sta aprins
Precum un soare-adevarat
Straine, tu cind vei muri
Si-atunci cind cioclii vor veni
Te-oi insoti cu gindlul meu
La bunul dumnezeu
 

Ballad to the Moon

Versions: #2
It was, in the dark night,
On the yellowed steeple,
The moon, the moon
Like a dot on an i.
 
Moon, what dark spirit
Walks at the end of a leash
Through the gloom,
Your face and your profile?
 
Are you the one-eyed heavens’ single eye?
Which bigoted cherub
Peers at us
Beneath your pale mask?
 
Are you merely a ball?
A big fat daddy-long-legs
That rolls, that rolls
Without legs and arms?
 

Good Girl, Margot

Versions: #2
Little Margot, the shepherdess
Finding a kitten in the grass -
A kitten who had just lost his mummy -
Adopted it.
She half-opened her collar
And lay it against her chest
It was all the poor thing had
For a pillow.
The cat, taking her for his mother
Started suckling straight away
Moved, Margot let him carry on
Good girl, Margot
A local fellow passing by
Finding this unusual scene
Went off to tell everyone
And the next day
 
When Margot undid her blouse
To give a little feed to her cat
All the lads, all the lads, from the village
Were standing there, there, there, there, there, there
Standing there, there, there, there, there
And Margot, who was simple, but a very good girl
Presumed that it was to see her cat
That all the lads, all the lads, from the village
Were standing there, there, there, there, there, there
Standing there, there, there, there, there
 
The schoolteacher and his pupils,
The mayor, the verger, the bartender,
All completely neglected their duties
To see the scene,
The postman, normally so deft,
To see the scene, delivered no more
Letters which no-one
Would have read anyway
To see the scene, God forgive them,
The altar boys ran out from church
in the middle of
the Holy Sacrifice,
The policemen, even they,
Blockheads that they are,
Let themselves be touched by the charm
Of the sight
 
When Margot undid her blouse
To give a little feed to her cat
All the lads, all the lads, from the village
Were standing there, there, there, there, there, there
Standing there, there, there, there, there
And Margot, who was simple, but a very good girl
Presumed that it was to see her cat
That all the lads, all the lads, from the village
Were standing there, there, there, there, there, there
Standing there, there, there, there, there
 
Even the other local women,
Deprived of their husbands and their beaux,
Accumulated rancour
Patiently
Then one day drunk with rage
They armed themselves with sticks
And wildly they burned
The little cat
The shepherdess, after crying her tears,
Took a husband as consolation
And never again revealed her charms
But for him
Time passed and the memory faded
The event was forgotten
Only the old folks still told
Their grandchildren
 
When Margot undid her blouse
To give a little feed to her cat
All the lads, all the lads, from the village
Were standing there, there, there, there, there, there
Standing there, there, there, there, there
And Margot, who was simple, but a very good girl
Presumed that it was to see her cat
That all the lads, all the lads, from the village
Were standing there, there, there, there, there, there
Standing there, there, there, there, there
 
~3oudicca