Lyr Add: Mudcat singaround songs NOT in English

Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Mudcat singaround songs NOT in English
From: SPB-Cooperator
Date: 03 May 21 - 09:37 AM

STARÝ McDONALD MĚL FARMU Starý McDonald měl farmu - E-I-E-I-O A na té farme měl psa - E-I-E-I-O Co delal haf haf sem A haf haf tam Tady haf a tamhle haf Vsude bzlo haf haf Starý McDonald měl farmu - E-I-E-I-O. Starý McDonald měl farmu - E-I-E-I-O A na té farme měl kravu - E-I-E-I-O Co delala bu bu sem A bu bu tam Tady bu a tamhle bu Vsude bylo bu bu Starý McDonald měl farmu - E-I-E-I-O. Starý McDonald měl farmu - E-I-E-I-O A na té farme měl ovce - E-I-E-I-O Co delaly bé bé sem A bé bé tam Tady bé a tamhle bé Vsude bylo bé bé Starý McDonald měl farmu - E-I-E-I-O. Starý McDonald měl farmu - E-I-E-I-O A na té farme měl kure - E-I-E-I-O Co delalo pi pi sem A pi pi tam Tady pi a tamhle pi Vsude bylo pi pi Starý McDonald měl farmu - E-I-E-I-O. Starý McDonald měl farmu - E-I-E-I-O A na té farme měl kachnu - E-I-E-I-O Co delala ká ká sem A ká ká tam Tady ká a tamhle ká Vsude bylo ká ká Starý McDonald měl farmu - E-I-E-I-O. Starý McDonald měl farmu - E-I-E-I-O A na té farme měl kocku - E-I-E-I-O Co delala mn’au m’nau sem A mn’au m’nau tam Tady mn’au a tamhle mn’au Vsude bylo mn’au mn’au Starý McDonald měl farmu - E-I-E-I-O. Starý McDonald měl farmu - E-I-E-I-O A na té farme měl prase - E-I-E-I-O Co delalo chrocht chrocht sem A chrocht chrocht tam Tady chrocht a tamhle chrocht Vsude bylo chrocht chrocht Starý McDonald měl farmu - E-I-E-I-O. Starý McDonald měl farmu - E-I-E-I-O A na té farme měl kozu -E-I-E-I-O Co delalo méééé méééé sem A méééé méééé tam Tady méééé a tamhle méééé Vsude bylo méééé méééé Starý McDonald měl farmu - E-I-E-I-O. Starý McDonald měl farmu - E-I-E-I-O A na té farme měl kohouta - E-I-E-I-O Co delal kykyryký sem A kykyryký tam Tady kykyryký a tamhle kykyryký Vsude bylo kykyryký Starý McDonald měl farmu - E-I-E-I-O. Starý McDonald měl farmu - E-I-E-I-O A na té farme měl osla - E-I-E-I-O Co delal iá iá sem A iá iá tam Tady iá a tamhle iá Vsude bylo iá iá Starý McDonald měl farmu - E-I-E-I-O. Starý McDonald měl farmu - E-I-E-I-O A na té farme měl vcely - E-I-E-I-O Co delaly bzz bzz sem A bzz bzz tam Tady bzz a tamhle bzz Vsude bylo bzz bzz Starý McDonald měl farmu - E-I-E-I-O. Starý McDonald měl farmu - E-I-E-I-O A na té farme měl ucitelku - E-I-E-I-O Co delala mluvi Cesky sem A mluvi Cesky tam Tady mluvi Cesky a tamhle mluvi Cesky Vsude bylo mluvi Cesky Starý McDonald měl farmu - E-I-E-I-O.

OLD McDONALD HAD A FARM Old McDonald had a farm - E-I-E-I-O And on that farm, he had a dog - E-I-E-I-O That did woof woof here And woof woof there Here woof and there woof Everywhere woof woof Old McDonald had a farm - E-I-E-I-O. Old McDonald had a farm - E-I-E-I-O And on that farm, he had a cow, - E-I-E-I-O That did mu mu here And mu mu there Here mu and there mu Everywhere mu mu Old McDonald had a farm - E-I-E-I-O. Old McDonald had a farm - E-I-E-I-O And on that farm, he had a sheep - E-I-E-I-O That did baa baa here And baa baa there Here baa and there baa Everywhere baa baa Old McDonald had a farm - E-I-E-I-O. Old McDonald had a farm - E-I-E-I-O And on that farm, he had chicken - E-I-E-I-O That did cheep cheep here And cheep cheep there Here cheep and there cheep Everywhere cheep cheep Old McDonald had a farm - E-I-E-I-O. Old McDonald had a farm - E-I-E-I-O And on that farm, he had a duck - E-I-E-I-O That did quack quack here And quack quack there Here quack and there quack Everywhere quack quack Old McDonald had a farm - E-I-E-I-O. Old McDonald had a farm - E-I-E-I-O And on that farm, he had a cat - E-I-E-I-O That did meow meow here And meow meow there, Here meow and there meow Everywhere meow meow Old McDonald had a farm - E-I-E-I-O. Old McDonald had a farm - E-I-E-I-O And on that farm, he had a pig - E-I-E-I-O That did oink oink here And oink oink there Here oink and there oink Everywhere oink oink Old McDonald had a farm - E-I-E-I-O. Old McDonald had a farm - E-I-E-I-O And on that farm, he had a goat -E-I-E-I-O That did baa baa here And baa baa there Here baa and there baa Everywhere baa baa Old McDonald had a farm - E-I-E-I-O. Old McDonald had a farm - E-I-E-I-O And on that farm, he had a rooster - E-I-E-I-O That did cock-a-doodle-doo here And cock-a-doodle-doo there Here cock-a-doodle-doo and there cock-a-doodle-doo Everywhere cock-a-doodle-doo Old McDonald had a farm - E-I-E-I-O. Old McDonald had a farm - E-I-E-I-O And on that farm, he had donkeys - E-I-E-I-O That did hee haw here And hee haw there Here hee haw and there hee haw Everywhere hee haw Old McDonald had a farm - E-I-E-I-O. Old McDonald had a farm - E-I-E-I-O And on that farm, he had bees - E-I-E-I-O What did bzz bzz here And bzz bzz there Here's bzz and over there bzz There was bzz bzz everywhere Old McDonald had a farm - E-I-E-I-O. Old McDonald had a farm - E-I-E-I-O And on that farm, he had a teacher - E-I-E-I-O That he speaks Czech here And he speaks Czech there He speaks Czech here and there He speaks Czech everywhere Old McDonald had a farm - E-I-E-I-O.

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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Mudcat singaround songs NOT in English
From: Monique
Date: 27 Apr 21 - 12:30 PM

Here is the song Lois sang

J’AI PASSÉ DEVANT TA PORTE (Cajun French) (aka MON CŒUR T'APPELLE) J’ai passé devant ta porte, J’ai crié, "By-bye la belle." Y a personne qu’a répondu, O ye-yaie, mon cœur me fait mal. Je m’ai donc mis, oui, à observer, Moi, j’ai vu une petite lumière allumée, Y a quelque chose qui me disait J’aurais pleuré, O y’yaie, mon cœur me fait mal. Quand j’ai été cogner à la porte, Oui, ils ont (r)ouvert la porte, Moi, j’ai vu des chandelles allumées Tout autour de ton cercueil.

I WALKED PAST YOUR DOOR (aka MY HEART ACHES FOR YOU) I walked past your door, I called out "By-bye, beautiful girl." Nobody answered, O ye-yaie, my heart aches. I started, yes, to observe/have a closer look, I, I saw a little light on, Something was talking to me, I would have cried, O ye-yaie, my heart aches. When I went to knock on the door, Yes, they opened the door, I, I saw candles lit All around your coffin.

Very interesting article on Early Cajun Music.

As sung by Dewey Balfa, Mark Savoy, D.L. Menard , as sung by D.L. Menard , as sung by Charlie 'Wine' Thibodeaux, Popa Robin (Robin Bruck) and Beth Fontenot (Fogleman) , as sung by Lee Benoit- accordion/vocals, John Pronk – guitar.

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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Mudcat singaround songs NOT in English
From: Monique
Date: 26 Apr 21 - 02:24 PM

FILHAS QUE SÈTZ A MARIDAR (Occitan -Languedoc dialect) (Traditional) 1. Filhas que sètz a maridar S'avètz d'argent, gardatz-lo plan! Siatz pas tant cap-levadas Que lo vos faràn acatar Quand seretz maridadas! 2. Quand seretz per vos maridar Que lo pressar vos tengue pas Siaguètz plan malfisentas, E digatz pas totjorn "òc ben" Coma un tròç d'innocentas! 3. Quand maridadas ne seretz. Un pauc de melhor temps auretz Un pauc, mas non pas gaire! Vòstre marit serà gelós, Emai un pauc renaire 4. Se volètz anar permenar, Enluòc vos daissarà anar Qu'en çò de vòstra maire, Emai encara vos dirà: Li demòres pas gaire! 5. Al cap de nòu meses, un an, Auretz una filha o un enfant L'enfant serà ploraire Tota la nèit caldrà breçar Non dormiretz pas gaire! 6. Auretz los cotilhons pissós* Auretz lo devantal crassós Seretz las mal-cofadas Maudiretz l'ora emai lo jorn Que vos sètz maridadas !

GIRLS WHO ARE TO BE MARRIED 1. Girls who are to be married, If you have any money, keep it well! Don't be so "head-raised" (= prideful) For they'll have you hang it down When you're married! 2. When you're about to marry, Don't let hurry take hold of you, Be very wary And don't always say "yes indeed" Like utter simpletons! 3. When you're married, You'll have some better time, Some, but not much! Your husband will be jealous And even a little grumpy. 4. If you want to go walk about He won't let you go anywhere But to your mother's house And even then, he'll tell you, "Don't stay there long!" 5. After nine months, a year, You'll have a daughter or a son, The child will be weepy You'll have to rock all night You won't sleep much. 6. You'll have pee-soaked petticoats, You'll have a filthy apron, You'll neglect yourselves, (lit. you'll be the "ill-combed") You'll curse the time and the day When you got married.

*I translated "pissós" as pee-soaked because of the baby but "pissós" might mean that the petticoats were "only" smelling of pee or had a yellowish color because she hadn't time to wash them often enough for them to be very white.

As sung by La Meute Rieuse , as sung by La Mal Coiffée , as sung by Dubartàs , as sung by Chœur occitan Rosamonda, Gérard Zuchetto

Here is a version of the song in the Gascon dialect of Occitan:

HILHETAS QU'ÈTZ A MARIDAR 1. Hilhetas qu'ètz a maridar, S'avètz un sòu, guardatz-lo plan Siatz pas tant nas levadas! Que ja vos lo haràn baissar, Quand seratz maridadas ! 2. Maridadetas ja seratz E de bon temps, ja vos'n veiratz Un pauc mas non pas guaire, E de bon temps ja vos'n veiratz Un pauc mes non pas guaire 3. Vòstre marit gelós serà, Enluòc vos' n deisharà anar Qu'en çò de vòstre paire 'lavètz enquera vos dirà "No i demorètz pas gaire!" 4. E quand ne ven lo cap de l'an*, I aurà un dròlle, un enfant, L'enfant serà ploraire, Tota la nèit caldrà breçar, Non dormiretz pas guaire 5. N'auretz lo devantau hangós, Lo hons del cotilhon ronhós, Ne seretz "mal-cofadas", E aniretz mai soven au riu Quand seretz maridadas.

YOUNG GIRLS WHO ARE TO MARRY 1. Young girls who are to marry If you have a penny, keep it well Don't be so "nose-raised" (= foolish or prideful) For they'll have you bring it down When you are married. 2. You'll be married And you'll have (lit. "see") some good time, Some but not much; And you'll have some good time, Some but not much; 3. Your husband will be jealous He won't let you go anywhere But to your father's house, Even then he'll tell you "Don't stay there long!" 4. And when New Year comes There'll be a baby, a child, The child will be weepy, You'll have to rock all night You won't sleep much. 5. You'll have your apron muddy, The bottom of your petticoat dirty, You'll neglect yourself**, And you'll go to the river more often When you're married.

As sung by Rosina de Pèira e Martina -Rosina Saurine "de Pèira"(1933-2019) and her daughter Martina recorded it in 1981.
*"lo cap de l'an" (lit. the head of the year) can be understood as "New Year" but also as "the end of the year" (at the end of your 1st year of marriage)
**In this version as in the one above, it's hard to tell if "mal cofada" means that she/they won't keep her/their hair well combed/tidy or if her/their coif won't be put properly. In Òc as in French "cofada/coiffée" can be about hair or about a coif.

Here is a slightly different version:

FILHAS QUE SÈTZ A MARIDAR Filhas que sètz a maridar, S’avètz de bon temps, gardatz-lo plan. Ne faguètz pas las cap-levadas, Aquò vos poiriá ben passar, Quand seretz maridadas. Quand seretz per vos maridar Que lo pressar vos tengue pas Siaguètz plan malfisentas, E digatz pas totjorn "òc ben" Coma un tròç d'innocentas! Quand maridadas vos seretz, Pas gaire de bon temps n’auretz. N’auretz un pauc mès non pas gaire, Ne prendretz un òme jalós, Benlèu un pauc conflaire. Se volètz anar passejar Enluòc vos daissarà anar Son qu'a l'ostal de vòstra maire En mai encara vos dirà "I demòres pas gaire" Al cap de nòu meses o un an, Auretz una filha o un enfant. Aquel enfant serà ploraire, Tota la nuèch caldrà breçar, Ne dormiretz gaire. Brèça amb la man, brèça amb lo pè, Jale lo davant, jale lo darrès, “Ai… cossí volètz que ieu visca? Tota la nuèch me cal breçar, Aquela traça de monisca.” Auretz los cotilhons pissós Auretz lo devantal merdós Seretz totjorn la mal-cofada Maudiretz l'ora emai lo jorn Que vos sètz maridadas ! Al cap de quatre o cinc ans, Vòstres enfants se faràn grands, Vos apelaràn "maire", E vos demandaràn de pan, De pan non n’i aurà gaire.

GIRLS WHO ARE TO BE MARRIED Girls who are to be married, If you have some good time, keep it well! Don't be so "head-raised" (= prideful) This might come to pass When you're married! When you're about to marry, Don't let hurry take hold of you, Be very wary And don't always say "yes indeed" Like utter simpletons! When you're married, You won't have much good time, You'll have some but not much! Your husband will be jealous Maybe a little irritating. If you want to go walk about He won't let you go anywhere But to your mother's house And even then, he'll tell you, "Don't stay there long!" After nine months, a year, You'll have a daughter or a son, This child will be weepy You'll have to rock all night You won't sleep much. Rock with your hand, rock with your foot, Be your front friezing, be your back friezing, "Oh… how do you want me to live? All night long I must rock This puny monkey." You'll have pee-smelling* petticoats, You'll have a shitty apron, You'll always neglect yourselves, (lit. you'll always be the "ill-combed" one) You'll curse the time and the day When you got married. After four or five years, Your children will grow, They'll call you "mother" And will ask you for bread, Bread… there won't be much!

*Cf. note above.
Recorded by La Talvera.     Version collected in 1993

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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Mudcat singaround songs NOT in English
From: Monique
Date: 19 Apr 21 - 02:22 PM

This song is the 7th piece of the "Cantata de Santa María de Iquique" that Luis Advis (1935-2004) composed for the group Quilapayún. The theme of the cantata is a historical industrial dispute that ended with the massacre of miners in the northern Chilean city of Iquique in 1907. The work was premiered in July 1970 and recorded about 2 months later. The master tapes were destroyed during the coup and the work was recorded again in 1978.
The Cantata is structured in eighteen parts, which include five stories without music, a prelude and three interludes with music only, two announcements and seven songs, whose rhythms and instrumentalization vary notably to emphasize the theme treated in each song.

VAMOS MUJER (Spanish) Vamos mujer, partamos a la ciudad, todo será distinto, no hay que dudar, no hay que dudar, confía ya vas a ver porque en Iquique todos van a entender. Toma mujer, mi manta te abrigará, ponte al niñito en brazos, no llorará, no llorará, confía va a sonreír, le cantarás un canto, se va a dormir. ¿Qué es lo que pasa? dime, no calles más. Largo camino tienes que recorrer atravesando cerros, vamos mujer, vamos mujer, confía que hay que llegar en la ciudad podremos ver todo el mar. Dicen que Iquique es grande como un salar que hay muchas casas lindas, te gustarán, te gustarán, confía como que hay Dios allá en el puerto todo va a ser mejor. ¿Qué es lo que pasa? dime, no calles más. Vamos mujer, partamos a la ciudad, todo será distinto, no hay que dudar, no hay que dudar, confía ya vas a ver, porque en Iquique todos van a entender.

LET'S GO WOMAN Let's go woman, let's leave for the city Everything will be different, no need to doubt, No need to doubt, have faith, you'll soon see Because in Iquique everyone will understand Take my blanket woman, it'll keep you warm, Take the baby in your arms, he won't cry, He won't cry, have faith, he will smile, You'll sing him a song he'll go to sleep. What is wrong? Tell me. Don't stay silent any longer. You have a long way to go, Crossing hills, let's go, woman Let's go, woman, have faith for we must arrive, In the city, we'll be able to see the whole sea. They say that Iquique is as big as a salt flat, That there are many lovely houses, you'll like them, You will like them, have faith as you do God exists, There, in the port, everything will be better What is wrong? Tell me. Don't stay silent any longer. Let's go woman, let's leave for the city Everything will be different, no need to doubt No need to doubt, have faith, you'll soon see Because in Iquique everyone will understand.

Live rendition 1973, soloist Rodolfo Parada
Live rendition 1981, soloist Guillermo García
Live rendition 1997, soloist Guillermo García
Live rendition 2003, soloist Guillermo García
Live rendition Dos Cantatas - Teatro Caupolicán - 25.05.2017 Soloist: Rubén Escudero (the song starts at 1:25)

The background and the lyrics of the whole work can be found in this PDF (all in Spanish).
You can listen to the whole cantata in this 2003 live rendition (40 min). There are many videos with the recorded version of it.

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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Mudcat singaround songs NOT in English
From: GerryM
Date: 12 Apr 21 - 11:30 PM

Teresa and I sang "Eli, Eli" at the singaround today, also known as "Halicha L'Kesariya", which is Hebrew for "A Walk to Caesarea". A poem by Hannah Senesh (1921-1944), set to music by David Zehavi (1910- 1977).
Borrowed from this blog: The poem of 14 words and six lines was written in Hebrew by Hannah Senesh, at Sdot Yam, Caesarea, on November 24, 1942, as a prayer to God—a prayer with overtones of Psalm 22. The poem was set to music by David Zehavi in 1945, after Hannah Senesh’s death by a German firing squad on November 7, 1944. She was 23.

ELI, ELI (HALICHA L’KESARIYA) (Hebrew) Eli, Eli, Shelo yigamer l'olam Hachol v'hayam Rishrush shel hamayim B'rak hashamayim T'filat ha-adam (Repeat last four lines)

MY GOD, MY GOD (WALK TO CAESAREA) My God, my God I pray that these things never end The sand, and the sea The rush of the waters The crash of the heavens The prayer of the heart (Repeat last four lines)

(הליכה לקיסריה) אלי, אלי

,אלי, אלי
,שלא יגמר לעולם
החול והים
,רשרוש של המים
,ברק השמיים
.תפילת האדם

Live rendition by Kol Rina Ensemble ; by Sophie Milman ; by the Maayan Band

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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Mudcat singaround songs NOT in English
From: rosma
Date: 12 Apr 21 - 08:04 PM

I sang Chevalier de la Table Ronde which already has a link here. I also sang Mon Beau Sapin before Christmas.

MON BEAU SAPIN (French) (Tannenbaum) Mon beau sapin, roi des forêts Que j'aime ta verdure! Quand, par l'hiver, bois et guérets Sont dépouillés de leurs attraits Mon beau sapin, roi des forêts Tu gardes ta parure. Toi que Noël planta chez nous Au saint anniversaire! Comme ils sont beaux, comme ils sont doux Et tes bonbons et tes joujoux! Toi que Noël planta chez nous Tout brillant de lumière. Mon beau sapin tes verts sommets Et leur fidèle ombrage De la foi qui ne ment jamais De la constance et de la paix, Mon beau sapin, tes verts sommets M'offrent la douce image.

Fairly literal translation MY BEAUTIFUL CHRISTMAS TREE My beautiful Christmas Tree, King of the forests How I love your greenery! When, through winter, woods and fields Are stripped of their attractions My beautiful Christmas tree, King of the forests You keep your finery. You that Christmas planted at home On the holy birthday! How they're beautiful, how they're sweet And your candies and your toys! You that Christmas planted at home All shining with light. My beautiful Christmas tree, your green summits And their faithful shade Of the faith that never lies Of constancy and peace, My beautiful Christmas tree, your green summits Offer me the sweet image.

Although it is commonly titled after its incipit "Mon beau sapin", the French version initially bore the title "Le sapin". It was published in 1856 in Strasbourg in a collection of popular German songs freely translated for French school audiences. The lyrics are from Laurent Delcasso (1797-1887), rector of the Academy of Strasbourg. They are accompanied by a score of the melody arranged for two voices by Pierre Gross (1823-1867), assistant teacher at the Teaching Training Institute of Strasbourg. (Translated from French Wikipedia)

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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Mudcat singaround songs NOT in English
From: Monique
Date: 12 Apr 21 - 03:30 PM

ΜΕ ΤΟ ΛΥΧΝΟ ΤΟΥ ΑΣΤΡΟΥ (Greek) Lyrics: Odysséas Elýtis (1911-1996) Music: Mikis Theodorakis (1925- ) Με το λύχνο του άστρου στους ουρανούς εβγήκα Στο αγιάζι των λειμώνων στη μόνη ακτή του κόσμου Που να βρω τη ψυχή μου το τετράφυλλο δάκρυ Τα κορίτσια μου πένθος για τους αιώνες έχουν Τ’αγόρια μου τουφέκια κρατούν και δεν κατέχουν Που να βρω τη ψυχή μου το τετράφυλλο δάκρυ!

WITH THE LAMP OF THE STAR (Literal translation) With the lamp of the star, in the heavens I came out In the frost of the meadows on the only coast of the world Where can I find my soul, the four-leafed tear? My girls have been mourning for centuries My boys hold rifles and do not own them Where can I find my soul, the four-leafed tear!

Transliteration me to lýchno tou ástrou stous ouranoús evgíka sto agiázi ton leimónon sti móni aktí tou kósmou pou na vro ti psychí mou to tetráfyllo dákry ta korítsia mou pénthos gia tous aiónes échoun t’agória mou toufékia kratoún kai den katéchoun pou na vro ti psychí mou to tetráfyllo dákry!

Notes to pronunciation: The accent indicates the stressed vowel. "e", "ai" = Eng "e" as in "bet" "i", "y", "ei" "oi" =~Eng. "ee" "ch" before "i" or "e" sound: like in "ich" in German "ou" =~Eng. "oo" "g" before "ee" or "e" sound: = "y" as in "you" "g" before any other sound = voiced "ch" "d" = "th" as in "the, this, that" "ch" before any other sound: like in "Bach" in German "ti psychi" is pronounced "ti bzichi" (tη= την + ψ = bz)

2001 Live rendition conducted by Mikis Theodorakis himself, soloist Yannis Kotsiras

Here is Odysséas Elýtis's full poem. Only the 1st, 4th and last verses can be sung to the tune.
I don't have a reliable translation so far.

Με το λύχνο του άστρου στους ουρανούς εβγήκα
Στο αγιάζι των λειμώνων στη μόνη ακτή του κόσμου
Που να βρω τη ψυχή μου το τετράφυλλο δάκρυ

Λυπημένες μυρσίνες ασημωμένες ύπνο
Μου ράντισαν την όψη φυσώ και μόνος πάω
Που να βρω τη ψυχή μου το τετράφυλλο δάκρυ!

Οδηγέ των ακτίνων και των κοιτώνων Μάγε
Αγύρτη που γνωρίζεις το μέλλον μίλησέ μου
Που να βρω τη ψυχή μου το τετράφυλλο δάκρυ!

Τα κορίτσια μου πένθος για τους αιώνες έχουν
Τ’αγόρια μου τουφέκια κρατούν και δεν κατέχουν
Που να βρω τη ψυχή μου το τετράφυλλο δάκρυ!

Εκατόγχειρες νύχτες μες στο στερέωμα όλο
Τα σπλάχνα μου αναδεύουν αυτός ο πόνος καίει
Που να βρω τη ψυχή μου το τετράφυλλο δάκρυ!

Με το λύχνο του άστρου στους ουρανούς γυρίζω
Στο αγιάζι των λειμώνων στη μόνη ακτή του κόσμου
Που να βρω τη ψυχή μου το τετράφυλλο δάκρυ!

2022/10/19 UPDATE: Mikis Theodorakis passed away on Sept 2nd 2021.

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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Mudcat singaround songs NOT in English
From: Mrrzy
Date: 12 Apr 21 - 03:24 PM

LE SOLDAT MÉCONTENT (French) (Anonymous) Sung by Yves Montand Dès le matin au point du jour On entend ces maudits tambours Dès le matin au point du jour On entend ces maudits tambours Ils nous appellent à ce noble exercice Et toi, pauvre soldat, c'est ton plus grand supplice Les caporaux et les sergents Vous font aligner sur deux rangs Les caporaux et les sergents Vous font aligner sur deux rangs L'un dit "recule" et l'autre dit "avance" Et toi, pauvre soldat, faut prendre patience... Si l'argent du prêt est mangé Il ne faut pas s'en étonner Si l'argent du prêt est mangé Il ne faut pas s'en étonner Les caporaux s'en vont boire de la bière Et toi, pauvre soldat, va boire à la rivière La patience que nous perdrons Si jamais en guerre nous allons La patience que nous perdrons Si jamais en guerre nous allons Ah si jamais nous allions en campagne Les grands coups de fusils paieront les coups de canne Qui a composé la chanson C'est un tambour du bataillon Qui a composé la chanson C'est un tambour du bataillon C'était un soir, en battant la retraite En pensant à sa mie que toujours il regrette...

THE DISCONTENTED SOLDIER As soon as dawn breaks Those bloody drums are heard As soon as dawn breaks Those bloody drums are heard Calling you to this noble exercise And for you, poor soldier, your greatest torture Corporals and sergeants Line you up in two rows Corporals and sergeants Line you up in two rows One says Back! and the other Forward! And you, poor soldier, must be patient If the petty cash is eater Don't be surprised If the petty cash is eater Don't be surprised Corporals go drink beer And you, poor soldier, go drink from the river The tempers we'll lose If we ever go to war The tempers we'll lose If we ever go to war Ah, if we ever go off campaigning The rifle blasts will repay all the canings Who wrote this song One of the battalion drummers Who wrote this song One of the battalion drummers One night while beating Retreat And thinking of his darling whom he misses forever

Recording by Yves Montand.

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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Mudcat singaround songs NOT in English
From: Monique
Date: 05 Apr 21 - 06:57 PM

The first two lines of each verse are repeated. As often happens in French folk songs the last line(s) of a verse become(s) the first line(s) of the next one.

NOUS QUITTONS LES PÂQUES (French) 1. Nous quittons les Pâques, Nous somm's au printemps ! Les vignes sont belles, Les blés vont grainant. (Refrain) Mariez-vous, la belle, N'attendez plus tant, N'attendez plus tant ! 2. Les vignes sont belles, Les blés vont grainant, Et la violette Fleurit dans les champs. (Refrain) 3. Et la violette Fleurit dans les champs. L' fils du roi qui passe En cueillit longtemps, (Refrain) 4. L' fils du roi qui passe En cueillit longtemps, En donne à sa mie, Tout en l'accolant. (Refrain) 5. En donne à sa mie, Tout en l'accolant : "Je les ai cueillies Dans le bois charmant, (Refrain) 6. Je les ai cueillies Dans le bois charmant, Quand ell's s'ront fanées, C'est qu'i' n' s'ra plus temps. (Refrain) 7. Quand ell's s'ront fanées, C'est qu'i' n' s'ra plus temps ! Aimez-moi bien vite Si l' cœur y consent. (Refrain) 8. Aimez-moi bien vite Si l' cœur y consent ! Le jour de nos noces S'ra l' plus beau de l'an !" (Refrain)

WE'RE LEAVING EASTER 1. We're leaving Easter We're in Spring The vineyards are beautiful, The wheat is growing grain. (Chorus) Get married, pretty, Don't wait any longer Don't wait any longer! 2. The vineyards are beautiful, The wheat is growing grain. And violets Are blossoming in the fields (Chorus) 3. And violets Are blossoming in the fields The king's son who passes by Picked some during a long while, (Chorus) 4. The king's son who passes by Picked some during a long while, Gives some to his sweetheart As he hugs her. (Chorus) 5. Gives some to his sweetheart As he hugs her. "I picked them In the charming wood," (Chorus) 6. "I picked them In the charming wood," When they're withered, It'll mean it'll be too late." (Chorus) 7. When they're withered, It'll mean it'll be too late, Love me very quickly If your heart agrees. (Chorus) 8. Love me very quickly If your heart agrees. Our wedding day Will be the finest of the year!" (Chorus)

This song can be found in Anthologie des Chants Populaires Français, t. 4 by Joseph Canteloube, in Mélodies populaires des provinces de France, 9e série by Julien Tiersot, and as " Mariez-vous, la Belle" in Chansons populaires du Val-de-Loire by Maurice Chevais.
You'll find the lyrics and the references above in Les chants populaires français.
You'll also find a shorter version on Mama Lisa's World with two slightly different tunes and scores.

Recording by Nana Mouskouri (same tune and lyrics as what I learned as a child)
Recording Les 4 Barbus & la Chorale Fédérale du Scoutisme Français
Recording by Jacques Douai.

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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Mudcat singaround songs NOT in English
From: Monique
Date: 03 Apr 21 - 01:32 PM

Evening Bell (Вечерний звон) is a popular Russian song written in 1828 by Ivan Kozlov and Alexander Alyabyev. The lyrics are adapted from a Russian-themed verse by Thomas Moore. (Some more background by Wikipedia)

ВЕЧЕРНИЙ ЗВОН (Russian) Вечерний звон, вечерний звон! Как много дум наводит он О юных днях в краю родном, Где я любил, где отчий дом, И как я, с ним навек простясь, Там слушал звон в последний раз! Уже не зреть мне светлых дней Весны обманчивой моей! И сколько нет теперь в живых Тогда веселых, молодых! И крепок их могильный сон; Не слышен им вечерний звон. Лежать и мне в земле сырой! Напев унывный надо мной В долине ветер разнесет; Другой певец по ней пройдет, И уж не я, а будет он В раздумье петь вечерний звон!

EVENING BELLS Evening bells, evening bells, How many memories they bring me back Of my youth in my native land, Where I was in love, where there's my house. I remember how, leaving it forever, I was hearing evening bells for the last time. Now I can't bring back those days Of my illusory youth. And how many of my friends are dead already, They who were merry and young at that time! They are in a deep deathly sleep, They don't hear evening bells anymore. One day I also shall be in the cold ground. A sad melody above me The wind will spread it throughout the valley, Other singer will pass it. And it's not me, it's him Who will sing with evening bells.

Transliteration (not pronunciation!)

vecherniy zvon, vecherniy zvon!
kak mnogo dum navodit on
o yunykh dnyakh v krayu rodnom,
gde ya lyubil, gde otchiy dom,
i kak ya, s nim navek prostyas',
tam slushal zvon v posledniy raz!

uzhe ne zret' mne svetlykh dney
vesny obmanchivoy moyey!
i skol'ko net teper' v zhivykh
togda veselykh, molodykh!
i krepok ikh mogil'nyy son;
ne slyshen im vecherniy zvon.

lezhat' i mne v zemle syroy!
napev unyvnyy nado mnoy
v doline veter razneset;
drugoy pevets po ney proydet,
i uzh ne ya, a budet on
v razdum'ye pet' vecherniy zvon!

Translation borrowed from Natalia Chernega website where you can listen to a rendition by the Sretensky Monastery Choir

Some renditions:
1st verse only:      Ivan Rebroff ,     Red Army Choir, soloist: Борис Дьяков (Boris Dyakov),     Сергей Захаров (Sergey Zakharov)
A rendition of the full set of lyrics by Юлия Зиганшина (Yulia Ziganshina.) (totally different!).
And if you want to have a look at some paintings while you listen to the Patriarchal Choir, Moscow or at some photos while you listen to soloist Гедда Николай (Nicolai Gedda), here you are!
Two scores and lyrics (Russian site), Lyrics and chords (Russian book from Google)

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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Mudcat singaround songs NOT in English
From: GUEST,Felipa
Date: 29 Mar 21 - 06:18 PM

"Je ne regrette rien" is posted Mudcat but I don't think it has its own discussion thread, so I will copy the lyrics from songs about remembering here

NON, JE NE REGRETTE RIEN (French) (Charles Dumont/Michel Vaucaire) popularized by singing of Edith Piaf Non, rien de rien, Non, je ne regrette rien, Ni le bien qu'on m'a fait ni le mal - Ça m'est bien égal. Non, rien de rien, Non, je ne regrette rien. C'est payé, balayé, oublié Je me fous du passé ! Avec mes souvenirs J'ai allumé le feu, Mes chagrins, mes plaisirs, Je n'ai plus besoin d'eux, Balayés mes amours Avec leurs trémolos Balayés pour toujours. Je repars à zéro. Non, rien de rien, Non, je ne regrette rien, Ni le bien qu'on m'a fait, ni le mal, Tout ça m'est bien égal ! Non, rien de rien, Non, je ne regrette rien, Car ma vie Car mes joies Aujourd'hui Ça commence avec toi.

NO, I REGRET NOTHING No, nothing at all No, I regret nothing, Neither the good they've done to me nor the bad - It's all the same to me. No, nothing at all No, I regret nothing, It's paid for, swept away, forgotten I don't give a damn about the past! With my memories I light the fire My sorrows, my pleasures, I don't need them any more My love affairs swept away With their quavers, Swept away forever. I'm starting again at zero. No, nothing at all No, I regret nothing, Neither the good they've done to me nor the bad, It's all the same to me. No, nothing at all No, I regret nothing, For my life, For my joys Today That begins with you.

Édith Piaf live rendition.

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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Mudcat singaround songs NOT in English
From: Monique
Date: 29 Mar 21 - 04:25 PM

LO SOLDAT DESCONEGUT (Occitan) (1972) Claudi Martí (1940 - ) La grava a conflat mon ventre, La pluèja a manjat ma pèl. Es plan sofrir de pas mai èsser, L'eternitat, cal la conéisser, Vos prègui : ont es lo solelh ? Repic França, som mòrt a tas guerras, Rocroy, Verdun e Rivoli, Mòrt per pas res, plan mòrt, misèria, Per Loïs Catòrze o Galliéni. Mon istòria totjorn se sembla: Me venián préner dins mon camp, Dins mon usina, o dins ma bòria. Per França! disiá lo notable ; Per Dieus! disiá lo capelan. (Repic) Coma ieu aqueles d'en fàcia Eran partits flor al fusilh. Ara, de tèrra plen la boca, Pòdon pas escampar lor crit. Sèm mòrts per los profitaires! Sèm mòrts per engraissar los rics. (Repic) Vergonha, vergonha vosautres, Enropats dins vòstres drapèus ! Venètz parlar a nòstra plaça Quand n'a besonh vòstre govèrn. Venduts, recoflats de messorgas, Calharetz lèu ! Calharetz lèu !

THE UNKNOWN SOLDIER Gravel inflated my belly, Rain ate my skin, It's very painful to exist no more, Eternity, you need to know it! Please, where is the sun? Chorus France, I died in your wars, Rocroy, Verdun and Rivoli, Dead for nothing, very dead, pity! For Louis 14th or Galliéni. My story is always the same, They would come to take me in my field, In my factory or in my farm. For France! would say the public figure, For God! would say the priest. (Chorus) Like me, those from the other side Had left in naïve innocence.* Now, with their mouths full of earth, They can't cry out. We died for the profiteers! We died to enrich the wealthy. (Chorus) Shame, shame on you, Wrapped in your flags! You come to speak in our behalf When your government needs it. Sellouts, full of lies, You'll soon shut up! You'll soon shut up!

*lit. "with a flower to the(ir) rifle"

Recording from 1972.

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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Mudcat singaround songs NOT in English
From: Mrrzy
Date: 29 Mar 21 - 03:40 PM

GUITARE ET TAMBOURIN (French) Jean Broussolle, Pete de Angelis Il a suffit qu'un beau matin Un tambourin suive le refrain d'une guitare Pour que partout de Tahiti à la Volga Aussitôt ce soit la même histoire Et vole les jolies demoiselles Comme des tourterelles pour s'en aller danser En ribambelle comme les hirondelles S'en vont à tire d'ailes au soleil de l'été Il a suffit qu'un beau matin Un tambourin suive le refrain des Balalaï-aïka Pour qu'aussitôt la fille en pleurs Oublie son cœur dans les coquelicots Le long de la Volga Et danse, danse sous les tonnelles La pauvre demoiselle qui avait tant pleuré Et recommence avant les fiançailles Les baisers dans la paille derrière les moulins Il a suffit qu'un beau matin Un tambourin suive le refrain d'une guitare Pour qu'aussitôt à Tahiti, la Vahiné Parte dans les flots larguer l'amarre Et vole la jolie demoiselle Comme une tourterelle pour s'en aller danser Vogue la belle, vogue sur la lagune Les vagues sous la lune ont le goût des baisers À Tahiti ou à Capri Comme là-bas sur la Volga

GUITAR AND TAMBOURINE It was enough on a fine morning For a tamborine to follow the refrain of a guitar For everywhere, from Tahiti to the Volga Right away for it to be the same old story And the pretty damsels fly, Like turtledoves, to go dancing In a swarm, as swallows Fly off swiftly in the summer sun It was enough on a fine morning For a tamborine to follow the refrain of balalaikas For the weeping damsel instantly to forget her heart among the poppies along the Volga And dance, dance under the arbors The poor damsel who had wept so It all starts up again, before betrothals, Kisses in the straw behind the mills It was enough on a fine morning For a tamborine to follow the refrain of a guitar For immediately in Tahiti the hula dancer Goes off onto the waves, casting off And off flies the lovely damsel Like a turtledove, to go dancing The beauty floats, floats on the lagoon The waves under the moon taste like kisses From Tahiti, or on Capri, Just like over there by the Volga.

Recording by Les compagnons de la chanson.

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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Mudcat singaround songs NOT in English
From: Monique
Date: 25 Mar 21 - 03:47 PM

Leeneia, the recording is from 2000 but I don't know how old the song is, if it's an old song or if it was written when it was recorded. I can ask if someone around me knows the answer but I'm not sure I'll get one.

Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Mudcat singaround songs NOT in English
From: leeneia
Date: 25 Mar 21 - 01:14 PM

Hello, Monique. I really enjoyed your song Devinhola with its riddles. Do you think that is an old song?

Subject: RE: learn some Gaelic songs via learngaelic.scot
From: Felipa
Date: 25 Mar 21 - 10:12 AM

I think it can be a bit hard to navigate the Learn Gaelic site to find songs. On the beginners section, it is listed within the Little by Little menu and in the Intermediate section it is listed directly in the menu for Intermediate B1. Both routes bring you to https://learngaelic.scot/littlebylittle/songs/index.jsp

Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Mudcat singaround songs NOT in English
From: Monique
Date: 25 Mar 21 - 09:30 AM

O 'ILLEAN BITHIBH SUNNDACH (Scottish Gaelic) Sèist O 'illean bithibh sunndach A-null air a bhòidse, A' fàgail ar dùthcha 'S gun dùil ri tighinn beo innt'. O ' illean bithibh sunndach A-null air a bhòidse. 1. Gur mise tha fo ghruaimean Bhith dol a shiubhal chuantan, 'S i soitheach dubh a' ghuail Tha 'gam fhuadach thar m' eòlas. 2. Tha sinn dol dh' Aimeireaga Far nach bi curam eil' oirnn' Cho fad's a mhaireas coille dhuinn An eilean Nòbha Scòtia. 3. 'Illean cridheil togarrach A nì an t-òl 's nach obadh e, 'S ann an Tobar Mhoire Nì sinn coinneamh 's an tigh-òsta. 4. An gleann a' bharraich uaine 'S an lag am biodh an luachair, Far 'm bi crodh-laoigh air bhuaile 'S na gruagaichean dol fòdhpa. 5. Tha sinn dol Cheap Breatainn Gu taobh na h-abhainn Mhira, Far am bi na smeòraich A' seinn ruinn fad an t-samhraidh.

BOYS BE IN GOOD SPIRITS Chorus Boys be in good spirits Across on the voyage, Leaving our country Without hope of returning alive. Boys be in good spirits Across on the voyage. 1. I am despondent To be about to travel oceans; It is the black coal-fired vessel That is banishing me from familiar territory. 2. We are going to America, Where we shall have no more worry As long as forests remain for us In the isle of Nova Scotia. 3. Hearty enthusiastic lads Who can take a drink and not refuse one, It's in Tobermory That we shall meet in the pub. 4. In the glen of the green branches, In the hollow of the rushes, Where dairy cows are in the fold Being milked by young maidens. 5. We are going to Cape Breton, Beside the Mira River Where the thrushes will sing for us All summer long.

Lyrics and translation borrowed from this live rendition
Another live rendition by An Conasg music trio
Recording by the Glasgow Gaelic Choir
Recording by Fiona J. McKenzie

If you want a Gaelic lesson and to learn it "little by little", go see the Learn Gaelic website! -Their translation is slightly different from the one above.

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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Mudcat singaround songs NOT in English
From: Monique
Date: 23 Mar 21 - 07:44 PM

sung by Fred Maslan

EHAD MI YODEA - QUALO ES EL UNO? (Ladino = Judaeo-Spanish) Quien supiense y entendiense, alavar al Dyo criense, Qualo es el uno, qualo es el uno? Uno es el Creador, uno es el Creador, Uno es el Creador, baruch Hu uvaruch sh’mo Quien supiense y entendiense, alavar al Dyo criense, Qualo son los dos, qualo son los dos? Dos Moshe y Aaron, uno es el Creador, Uno es el Creador, baruch Hu uvaruch sh’mo Quien supiense y entendiense, alavar al Dyo criense, Qualo son los tres, qualo son los tres? Tres muestros padres son, Avraham, Isaac y Yacov, Dos Moshe y Aaron, uno es el Creador, Uno es el Creador, baruch Hu uvaruch sh’mo Quien supiense y entendiense, alavar al Dyo criense, Qualo son los quatro, qualo son los quatro? Quatro madres de Yisrael, Sarah, Rivkah, Leah, Rachel, Tres muestros padres son, Avraham, Isaac y Yacov, Dos Moshe y Aaron, uno es el Creador, Uno es el Creador, baruch Hu uvaruch sh’mo Quien supiense y entendiense, alavar al Dyo criense, Qualo son los cinco, qualo son los cinco? Cinco livros de la lei, Quatro madres de Yisrael, Sarah, Rivkah, Leah, Rachel, Tres muestros padres son, Avraham, Isaac y Yacov, Dos Moshe y Aaron, uno es el Creador, Uno es el Creador, baruch Hu uvaruch sh’mo Quien supiense y entendiense, alavar al Dyo criense, Qualo son los sesh, qualo son los sesh? Sesh dias sin Shabat, Cinco livros de la lei, Quatro madres de Yisrael, Sarah, Rivkah, Leah, Rachel, Tres muestros padres son, Avraham, Isaac y Yacov, Dos Moshe y Aaron, uno es el Creador, Uno es el Creador, baruch Hu uvaruch sh’mo Quien supiense y entendiense, alavar al Dyo criense, Qualo son los siete, qualo son los siete? Siete dias de la semana, Sesh dias sin Shabat, Cinco livros de la lei, Quatro madres de Yisrael, Sarah, Rivkah, Leah, Rachel, Tres muestros padres son, Avraham, Isaac y Yacov, Dos Moshe y Aaron, uno es el Creador, Quien supiense y entendiense, alavar al Dyo criense, Qualo son los ocho, qualo son los ocho? Ocho dias de brit mila, Siete dias de la semana, Sesh dias sin Shabat, Cinco livros de la lei, Quatro madres de Yisrael, Sarah, Rivkah, Leah, Rachel, Tres muestros padres son, Avraham, Isaac y Yacov, Dos Moshe y Aaron, uno es el Creador, Uno es el Creador, baruch Hu uvaruch sh’mo Quien supiense y entendiense, alavar al Dyo criense, Qualo son los mueve, qualo son los mueve? Mueve mezes de la prenyada, Ocho dias de brit mila, Siete dias de la semana, Sesh dias sin Shabat, Cinco livros de la lei, Quatro madres de Yisrael, Sarah, Rivkah, Leah, Rachel, Tres muestros padres son, Avraham, Isaac y Yacov, Dos Moshe y Aaron, uno es el Creador, Uno es el Creador, baruch Hu uvaruch sh’mo Quien supiense y entendiense, alavar al Dyo criense, Qualo son los diez, qualo son los diez? Diez comandamientos de la lei, Mueve mezes de la prenyada, Ocho dias de brit mila, Siete dias de la semana, Sesh dias sin Shabat, Cinco livros de la lei, Quatro madres de Yisrael, Sarah, Rivkah, Leah, Rachel, Tres muestros padres son, Avraham, Isaac y Yacov, Dos Moshe y Aaron, uno es el Creador, Uno es el Creador, baruch Hu uvaruch sh’mo Quien supiense y entendiense, alavar al Dyo criense, Qualo son los once, qualo son los once? Once estrellas de sueno de Yossef, Diez comandamientos de la lei, Mueve mezes de la prenyada, Ocho dias de brit mila, Siete dias de la semana, Sesh dias sin Shabat, Cinco livros de la lei, Quatro madres de Yisrael, Sarah, Rivkah, Leah, Rachel, Tres muestros padres son, Avraham, Isaac y Yacov, Dos Moshe y Aaron, uno es el Creador, Uno es el Creador, baruch Hu uvaruch sh’mo Quien supiense y entendiense, alavar al Dyo criense, Qualo son los doce, qualo son los doce? Doce trivos de Yisrael, Once estrellas de sueno de Yossef, Diez comandamientos de la lei, Mueve mezes de la prenyada, Ocho dias de brit mila, Siete dias de la semana, Sesh dias sin Shabat, Cinco livros de la lei, Quatro madres de Yisrael, Sarah, Rivkah, Leah, Rachel, Tres muestros padres son, Avraham, Isaac y Yacov, Dos Moshe y Aaron, uno es el Creador, Uno es el Creador, baruch Hu uvaruch sh’mo Quien supiense y entendiense, alavar al Dyo criense, Qualo son los treize, qualo son los trece? Trece anyos de complas minyan, Doce trivos de Yisrael, Once estrellas de sueno de Yossef, Diez comandamientos de la lei, Mueve mezes de la prenyada, Ocho dias de brit mila, Siete dias de la semana, Sesh dias sin Shabat, Cinco livros de la lei, Quatro madres de Yisrael, Sarah, Rivkah, Leah, Rachel, Tres muestros padres son, Avraham, Isaac y Yacov, Dos Moshe y Aaron, uno es el Creador, Uno es el Creador, baruch Hu uvaruch sh’mo

EHAD MI YODEA -WHO KNOWS ONE? Who knows and understands, praised be exalted God? What is one? What is one? One is the Creator, praised be the Eternal God. Who knows and understands, praised be exalted God? What is two? What is two? Two are Moshe and Aaron; One is the Creator One is the Creator, praised be the Eternal God. Who knows and understands, praised be exalted God? What is three? What is three? Three are the fathers of Israel, Abraham, Isaac and Jacob; Two are Moshe and Aaron; One is the Creator One is the Creator Who knows and understands, praised be exalted God? What is four? What is four? Four are the mothers of Israel, Sarah, Rivkah, Leah and Rachel; Three are the fathers of Israel, Abraham, Isaac and Jacob; Two are Moshe and Aaron; One is the Creator One is the Creator, praised be the Eternal God. Who knows and understands, praised be exalted God? What is five? What is five? Five are the books of the Torah; Four are the mothers of Israel, Sarah, Rivkah, Leah and Rachel; Three are the fathers of Israel, Abraham, Isaac and Jacob; Two are Moshe and Aaron; One is the Creator One is the Creator, praised be the Eternal God. Who knows and understands, praised be exalted God? What is six? What is six? Six are the orders of the Mishnah; Five are the books of the Torah; Four are the mothers of Israel, Sarah, Rivkah, Leah and Rachel; Three are the fathers of Israel, Abraham, Isaac and Jacob; Two are Moshe and Aaron; One is the Creator One is the Creator, praised be the Eternal God. Who knows and understands, praised be exalted God? What is seven? What is seven? Seven are the days of the week; Six are the orders of the Mishnah; Five are the books of the Torah; Four are the mothers of Israel, Sarah, Rivkah, Leah and Rachel; Three are the fathers of Israel, Abraham, Isaac and Jacob; Two are Moshe and Aaron; One is the Creator One is the Creator, praised be the Eternal God. Who knows and understands, praised be exalted God? What is eight? What is eight? Eight are the days to circumcision; Seven are the days of the week; Six are the orders of the Mishnah; Five are the books of the Torah; Four are the mothers of Israel, Sarah, Rivkah, Leah and Rachel; Three are the fathers of Israel, Abraham, Isaac and Jacob; Two are Moshe and Aaron; One is the Creator One is the Creator, praised be the Eternal God. Who knows and understands, praised be exalted God? What is nine? What is nine? Nine are the months to childbirth; Eight are the days to circumcision; Seven are the days of the week; Six are the orders of the Mishnah; Five are the books of the Torah; Four are the mothers of Israel, Sarah, Rivkah, Leah and Rachel; Three are the fathers of Israel, Abraham, Isaac and Jacob; Two are Moshe and Aaron; One is the Creator One is the Creator, praised be the Eternal God. Who knows and understands, praised be exalted God? What is ten? What is ten? Ten are the commandments; Nine are the months to childbirth; Eight are the days to circumcision; Seven are the days of the week; Six are the orders of the Mishnah; Five are the books of the Torah; Four are the mothers of Israel, Sarah, Rivkah, Leah and Rachel; Three are the fathers of Israel, Abraham, Isaac and Jacob; Two are Moshe and Aaron; One is the Creator One is the Creator, praised be the Eternal God. Who knows and understands, praised be exalted God? What is eleven? What is eleven? Eleven are the stars in Joseph's dream; Ten are the commandments; Nine are the months to childbirth; Eight are the days to circumcision; Seven are the days of the week; Six are the orders of the Mishnah; Five are the books of the Torah; Four are the mothers of Israel, Sarah, Rivkah, Leah and Rachel; Three are the fathers of Israel, Abraham, Isaac and Jacob; Two are Moshe and Aaron; One is the Creator One is the Creator, praised be the Eternal God. Who knows andunderstands, praised be exalted God? What is twelve? What is twelve? Twelve are the tribes of Israel; Eleven are the stars in Joseph's dream; Ten are the commandments; Nine are the months to childbirth; Eight are the days to circumcision; Seven are the days of the week; Six are the orders of the Mishnah; Five are the books of the Torah; Four are the mothers of Israel, Sarah, Rivkah, Leah and Rachel; Three are the fathers of Israel, Abraham, Isaac and Jacob; Two are Moshe and Aaron; One is the Creator One is the Creator, praised be the Eternal God. Who knows and understands, praised be exalted God? What is thirteen? What is thirteen? Thirteen is the age for completing a minyan; Twelve are the tribes of Israel; Eleven are the stars in Joseph's dream; Ten are the commandments; Nine are the months to childbirth; Eight are the days to circumcision; Seven are the days of the week; Six are the orders of the Mishnah; Five are the books of the Torah; Four are the mothers of Israel, Sarah, Rivkah, Leah and Rachel; Three are the fathers of Israel, Abraham, Isaac and Jacob; Two are Moshe and Aaron; One is the Creator One is the Creator, praised be the Eternal God.

Translation borrowed from sephardifederationpbc.org -some other songs in this PDF.
Study about the song
Some songs for Passover in this PDF.

Live rendition

Felipa's comments have been moved to the Ehad Mi Yodea thread.

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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Mudcat singaround songs NOT in English
From: Felipa
Date: 23 Mar 21 - 09:48 AM

Zog, Maran; a song in Yiddish sung at the 22 March 2021 Mudcat singaround is already posted on Mudcat Zog, Maran

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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Mudcat singaround songs NOT in English
From: Monique
Date: 22 Mar 21 - 05:59 PM

DEVINHÒLA (Occitan) (Sung by Maria Roanet 1936- ) Ma maire a un lençòl tot blau Que lo pòt pas plegar. Mon paire a un molon d’escuts Que lo pòt pas comptar. Mon fraire a un irange gròs Que lo pòt pas plumar. Ieu ai un brave pescajon: Lo pòdi pas manjar. Gaita en amont, gaita plan naut, I traparàs la clau"

RIDDLE My mother has a blue bedsheet That she can't fold. My father has a lot of coins That he can't count. My brother has a big orange That he can't peel. I have large pancake I can't eat it. Look upwards, look high upwards, You'll find the answer there.

Rendition by Maria Roanet, Marie Rouanet in French. As a singer she sings in Occitan but as a writer she writes (beautifully) in French except for one in Oc "Dins de patetas rojas" that she later re-wrote in French as "Nous les filles" (Us girls), a collection of memories from when she went from childhood to teenage. My favorite is "La marche lente des glaciers", 1994 (lit. "The Slow March of the Glaciers" -hasn't been translated) in which she tells her father's later life and death.
You can also find a recording and an Italian translation on the Italian Chambra d'òc site as the Occitan Valleys are a part of Italy where Occitan is still spoken.

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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Mudcat singaround songs NOT in English
From: Monique
Date: 15 Mar 21 - 06:10 PM

CAN VEI LA LAUZETA MOVER (Old Occitan) Bernat de Ventadorn (ca. 1125 - ca. 1200) (really "ca."!) Can vei la lauzeta mover De joi sas alas contral rai, Que s’oblid’ e.s laissa chazer Per la doussor c’al cor li vai, Ai! Tan grans enveya m’en ve De cui qu’eu veya jauzion, Meravilhas ai, car desse Lo cor de dezirer no.m fon Ai, las! tan cuidava saber D’amor, e tan petit en sai, Car eu d’amar no.m posc tener Celeis don ja pro non aurai. Tout m’a mo cor, e tout m’a me, E se mezeis e tot lo mon; E can se.m tolc, no.m laisset re Mas dezirer e cor volon. Anc non agui de me poder Ni no fui meus de l’or’ en sai Que.m laisset en sos olhs vezer En un miralh que mout me plai. Miralhs, pus me mirei en te, M’an mort li sospir de preon, C’aissi.m perdei com perdet se Lo bels Narcisus en la fon. De las domnas me dezesper; Ja mais en lor no.m fiarai; C’aissi com las solh chaptener, Enaissi las deschaptenrai. Pois vei c’una pro no m’en te Vas leis que.m destrui e.m cofon, Totas las dopt’ e las mescre, Car be sai c’atretals se son. D’aisso.s fa be femna parer Ma domna, per qu’e.lh’ o retrai, Car no vol so c’om deu voler, E so c’om li deveda, fai. Chazutz sui en mala merce, Et ai be faih co.l fols en pon; E no sai per que m’esdeve, Mas car trop puyei contra mon. Merces es perduda, per ver, (Et eu non o saubi anc mai), Car cilh qui plus en degr’aver, No.n a ges, et on la querrai ? A ! Can mal sembla, qui la ve, Qued aquest chaitiu deziron Que ja ses leis non aura be, Laisse morrir, que no l’aon. Pus ab midons no.m pot valer Precs ni merces ni.l dreihz qu’eu ai, Ni a leis no ven a plazer Qu’eu l’am, ja mais no.lh o dirai. Aissi.m part de leis e.m recre; Mort m’a, e per mort li respon, E vau m’en, pus ilh no.m rete, Chaitius, en issilh, no sai on. Tristans, ges no.n auretz de me, Qu’eu m’en vau, chaitius, no sai on. De chantar me gic e.m recre, E de joi e d’amor m’escon.

WHEN I SEE THE LARK When I see the lark beat his wings for joy against the sun's ray, until he forgets to fly and plummets down, for the sheer delight which goes to his heart, alas, great envy comes to me of those whom I see filled with happiness, and I marvel that my heart does not instantly melt from desire. Alas, I thought I knew so much about love, and really I know so little, for I cannot keep myself from loving her from whom I shall have no favor. She has stolen from me my heart, myself, herself, and all the world. When she took herself from me, she left me nothing but desire and a longing heart. Never have I been in control of myself or even belonged to myself from the hour that she let me gaze into her eyes- that mirror that pleases me so greatly. Mirror, since I saw myself reflected in you, deep sighs have been killing me. I have lost myself, just as handsome Narcissus lost himself in the fountain. I despair of women, no more will I trust them, and just as I used to defend them, now I shall denounce them. Since I see that none aids me against her who destroys and confounds me, I fear and distrust them all for I know well they are all alike. In this my lady certainly shows herself to be a woman, and for it I reproach her, for she wants not that which one ought to want, and what is forbidden, she does. I have fallen out of favor and have behaved like the fool on the bridge; and I don't know why it happened except because I tried to climb too high. Mercy is lost, in truth, though I never received it, for she who should possess it most has none, so where shall I seek it? Ah, one who sees her would scarcely guess that she just leaves this passionate wretch (who will have no good without her) to die, and gives no aid. Since with my lady neither prayers nor mercy nor my rights avail me, and since she is not pleased that I love her, I will never speak of it to her again. Thus I part from her, and leave; she has killed me, and by death I respond, since she does not retain me, I depart, wretched, into exile, I don't know where. Tristan, you will have nothing from me, for I depart, wretched, I don't know where. I quit and leave off singing and withdraw from joy and love.

Translation borrowed from here, you'll also find a fine translation there.
You can listen to a nice recording here, to another there… There are more -(but I wouldn't say "everywhere").
Bernat de Ventadorn (or Bernart de Ventadorn or French 'Bernard de Ventadour') is our greatest and best known troubadour.
Wiki entry about the song
Note that troubadours' songs didn't reach us by any folk process, they've been "buried" for centuries and were "exhumed" by scholars only a few decades ago. They weren't folk songs. There were 3 styles of songs: "trobar lèu" (light form) accessible to anyone, "trobar ric" (rich form) accessible to more literate people and "trobar clus" (closed form), complex and obscure, you needed to belong to the elite to access it.

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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Mudcat singaround songs NOT in English
From: Monique
Date: 15 Mar 21 - 05:09 PM

Sung by Jim Lucas

МЕТЕЛИЦА (Russian) Вдоль поулице метелица метёт За метелицей мой миленой идёт припев Ты постой, постой, крсавица моя, Дозволь наглядеться, радость, на тебя. На твою ли, на приятну красату На твоё ли, что ль на белое лицо (припев) Красота твоя с ума меня свела Иссушила добра молодца меня (припев)

SNOW FLURRY A snow flurry sweeps along the street; Behind the flurry goes my dear. Chorus Stay, stay, my beauty, Let me gaze on you, my joy. On your pleasant beauty, On your white face. (Chorus) Your beauty has disturbed my soul, Has drained my youth. (Chorus)

Jim said: "My translation that's not precisely literal nor meant to be sung, but a friend who does translations between Russian and English professionally has approved it."

Transliteration (not pronunciation!!!)

     METELITSA

vdol' poulitse metelitsa metot za metelitsey moy milenoy idot ty postoy, postoy, krsavitsa moya, dozvol' naglyadet'sya, radost', na tebya.

na tvoyu li, na priyatnu krasatu na tvoyo li, chto l' na beloye litso krasota tvoya s uma menya svela issushila dobra molodtsa menya

Recording 1, recording 2 by Sergei Lemeshev (Сергей ЛЕМЕШЕВ -1902-1977), live rendition by Sergey Lazarev (Сергей Лазарев -1983 - ), Live recording with choir, the whole YouTube page (take your pick!).
French Wiki entry about the song reads (Translated by Google)...
"...it's a Russian folk song from the late 18th century. The music dates from the 1840's by Alexander Varlamov. The lyrics of the song were first published in 1790 under the name 'What Boredom, Mother, to Spend Spring Alone' (Скучно, матушка, весной мне жить одной in Russian). In 1817, the poet Dimitri Glebov [Дмитрий Глебов 1789-1843, (link in Russian only)] reworked them somewhat, and republished them under the name 'How Boring, Mother, To Live as a Lonely Heart' (in Russian Скучно, матушка, мне сердцем жить одной). After the text was set to music in 1842, various versions followed, close to varying degrees to that of Glebov.
The Metelitsa appears in the repertoire of many artists, including Yossif Kobzon, Sergei Lemechev, Anna German and the Red Army Choir."

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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Mudcat singaround songs NOT in English
From: Monique
Date: 10 Mar 21 - 03:35 AM

MON AMIE LA ROSE (French) Cécile Caulier (1929-2009), J. Lacôme d'Estalenx (1838-1920) Sung by Françoise Hardy in 1964 On est bien peu de chose Et mon amie la rose Me l'a dit ce matin À l'aurore je suis née Baptisée de rosée Je me suis épanouie Heureuse et amoureuse Aux rayons du soleil Me suis fermée la nuit Me suis réveillée vieille Pourtant j'étais très belle Oui, j'étais la plus belle Des fleurs de ton jardin On est bien peu de chose Et mon amie la rose Me l'a dit ce matin Vois le dieu qui m'a faite Me fait courber la tête Et je sens que je tombe Et je sens que je tombe Mon cœur est presque nu J'ai le pied dans la tombe Déjà je ne suis plus Tu m'admirais hier Et je serai poussière Pour toujours demain. On est bien peu de chose Et mon amie la rose Est morte ce matin La lune cette nuit A veillé mon amie Moi en rêve j'ai vu Éblouissante et nue Son âme qui dansait Bien au-delà des nues Et qui me souriait Croie celui qui peut croire Moi, j'ai besoin d'espoir Sinon je ne suis rien Ou bien si peu de chose C'est mon amie la rose Qui l'a dit hier matin.

MY FRIEND THE ROSE Translation by Tom Thomson (1944 - ) We aren't anything much and my friend the rose told me so this morning. At dawn I was born, baptised with dew, I spread myself out happy and loving to the suns rays. I closed myself at night and woke up old. Nonetheless I was very beautiful, yes, I was the most beautiful of the flowers in your garden. We aren't anything much and my friend the rose told me so this morning. See the god who made me makes me bow my head and I feel that I'm falling, and I feel that I'm falling. My heart is almost bare, I've one foot in the grave already I no longer am. You admired me yesterday and I'll be dust for ever tomorrow. We aren't anything much and my friend the rose died this morning. Last night the moon held a wake over my friend. I, in a dream I saw her bare and dazzling soul which was dancing well beyond the clouds and was smiling at me. Let him who can believe, Me, I need some hope without it I am nothing Or maybe not much of anything. It was my friend the rose who said that yesterday morning.

Translation borrowed from Lyricstranslate.com (the best of them IMO)

Françoise Hardy's rendition
Sheet music

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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Mudcat singaround songs NOT in English
From: Mrrzy
Date: 08 Mar 21 - 04:16 PM

Monique, this is the best translation I've found...

LES DJINNS (French) (1829, Victor Hugo 1802-1885) Murs, ville, Et port, Asile De mort, Mer grise Où brise La brise, Tout dort. Dans la plaine Naît un bruit. C'est l'haleine De la nuit. Elle brame Comme une âme Qu'une flamme Toujours suit! La voix plus haute Semble un grelot. D'un nain qui saute C'est le galop. Il fuit, s'élance, Puis en cadence Sur un pied danse Au bout d'un flot. La rumeur approche. L'écho la redit. C'est comme la cloche D'un couvent maudit ; Comme un bruit de foule, Qui tonne et qui roule, Et tantôt s'écroule, Et tantôt grandit, Dieu ! la voix sépulcrale Des Djinns !... Quel bruit ils font ! Fuyons sous la spirale De l'escalier profond. Déjà s'éteint ma lampe, Et l'ombre de la rampe, Qui le long du mur rampe, Monte jusqu'au plafond. C'est l'essaim des Djinns qui passe, Et tourbillonne en sifflant! Les ifs, que leur vol fracasse, Craquent comme un pin brûlant. Leur troupeau, lourd et rapide, Volant dans l'espace vide, Semble un nuage livide Qui porte un éclair au flanc. Ils sont tout près ! - Tenons fermée Cette salle, où nous les narguons. Quel bruit dehors ! Hideuse armée De vampires et de dragons ! La poutre du toit descellée Ploie ainsi qu'une herbe mouillée, Et la vieille porte rouillée Tremble, à déraciner ses gonds! Cris de l'enfer! voix qui hurle et qui pleure! L'horrible essaim, poussé par l'aquilon, Sans doute, ô ciel ! s'abat sur ma demeure. Le mur fléchit sous le noir bataillon. La maison crie et chancelle penchée, Et l'on dirait que, du sol arrachée, Ainsi qu'il chasse une feuille séchée, Le vent la roule avec leur tourbillon! Prophète ! si ta main me sauve De ces impurs démons des soirs, J'irai prosterner mon front chauve Devant tes sacrés encensoirs! Fais que sur ces portes fidèles Meure leur souffle d'étincelles, Et qu'en vain l'ongle de leurs ailes Grince et crie à ces vitraux noirs! Ils sont passés ! - Leur cohorte S'envole, et fuit, et leurs pieds Cessent de battre ma porte De leurs coups multipliés. L'air est plein d'un bruit de chaînes, Et dans les forêts prochaines Frissonnent tous les grands chênes, Sous leur vol de feu pliés! De leurs ailes lointaines Le battement décroît, Si confus dans les plaines, Si faible, que l'on croit Ouïr la sauterelle Crier d'une voix grêle, Ou pétiller la grêle Sur le plomb d'un vieux toit. D'étranges syllabes Nous viennent encor ; Ainsi, des arabes Quand sonne le cor, Un chant sur la grève Par instants s'élève, Et l'enfant qui rêve Fait des rêves d'or. Les Djinns funèbres, Fils du trépas, Dans les ténèbres Pressent leurs pas; Leur essaim gronde: Ainsi, profonde, Murmure une onde Qu'on ne voit pas. Ce bruit vague Qui s'endort, C'est la vague Sur le bord; C'est la plainte, Presque éteinte, D'une sainte Pour un mort. On doute La nuit... J'écoute : -Tout fuit, Tout passe L'espace Efface Le bruit.

THE GENIES Translation ©Marva Barnett (Cf. below) Walls, town, and port, harbor of death. A grey sea where the breeze breaks; everything sleeps. On the plains, a noise is born. It’s the breath of night. It moans like a soul a flame always follows. The loudest voice resembles a little spherical bell. It’s the gallop of a jumping dwarf. It flees, rushes forward, then in cadence dances on one foot at the end of a wave. The rumor approaches. The echo repeats it. It’s like the steeple bell of a cursed convent; like the noise of a crowd that thunders and rolls and sometimes collapses and sometimes grows. God! the sepulchral voice of the Genies! What noise they make! Let’s flee under the spiral of the deep staircase. Already my lamp goes out, and the shadow of the banister that creeps up the wall climbs all the way to the ceiling. The Genie swarm is passing in a whistling whirlwind! The yews, smashed by their flight, crack like a burning pine. Their heavy, rapid troop, flying in the empty space, seems to be a livid cloud that carries lightening in its side. They’re really near! Let’s keep this room closed, here where we deride them. What a noise outside! Hideous army of vampire and dragons! The detached roof beam is bending like a damp piece of grass, and the old rusty door is trembling off its hinges! Cries of hell! Voices that shriek and lament! The horrible swarm, pushed by the north wind, without a doubt, oh heavens! is swooping down on my house. The wall yields before the black battalion. The leaning house screams and totters; and one would say that the wind tears the house from the ground, rolling it with their whirlwind, as it might chase a dry leaf! Prophet! If your hand saves me from these impure demons of the nights, I will prostrate myself before your sacred censers/altars. Let it be that, before these faithful doors, their breath dies in sparks, and that in vain the claws of their wings scratch and screech at these dark windows! They’ve gone! Their cohort flies away, flees; and their feet have stopped beating on my door with multiple blows. The air is full of the noise of chains; and in the nearby forest all the great oaks quiver, folded beneath their flight of fire! The beating of their distant wings diminishes: so confused in the plains, so feeble that one seems to hear the locust cry in a frail voice, or hail crackle on an old lead roof. Strange syllables still come to us; thus does an Arab chant rise up on the beach when the horn is sounded; and the child who dreams dreams golden dreams. The baneful Genies, sons of death, hurry on into the shadows; their swarm growls: thus profoundly murmurs a wave one doesn’t see. This vague noise that subsides in sleep is the wave on the shore; it’s the moaning, almost faded away, of a saint for someone dead. We doubt the night I listen —everything flees, everything passes away, space erases the noise.

Borrowed from Marva Barnett © 2018. "An award-winning educator and lifelong teacher of French language, literature, and culture, Marva Barnett holds a Ph.D. in Romance Languages and Literatures from Harvard University. In 2012, the French government named her Chevalier des palmes académiques for her work on Victor Hugo."

Reading 1, reading 2, YouTube page with many renditions and recordings.
Gabriel Fauré composed Les Djinns op. 12 (1875) for mixed choir, César Franck composed a symphonic poem Les Djinns (FWV 45) in 1884 and Louis Vierne composed Les Djinns op. 35 in 1912.

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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Mudcat singaround songs NOT in English
From: Monique
Date: 04 Mar 21 - 04:05 AM

Sung by Steve Belsey

NEPUDEM DOMÚ (Czech)

Nepudem domú,
Až bude ráno,
Až bude na nebi
Hvĕzdiček málo

Nepudem domú,
Budeme tady
Až bude slunéčko
Nad napajedly

Nepudem domú,
Až bude svítat
Až budú tatíček
Palicú smýkat

Čechomor live rendition

Sheet music

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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Mudcat singaround songs NOT in English
From: Monique
Date: 02 Mar 21 - 03:34 AM

LA MÁS BELLA NIÑA (Spanish) (Luís de Góngora / Paco Ibáñez) La más bella niña de nuestro lugar, hoy viuda y sola y ayer por casar. Viendo que sus ojos a la guerra van, a su madre dice que escucha su mal, Dejadme llorar, orillas del mar. Pues me diste, madre, en tan tierna edad tan corto el placer, tan largo el pesar y me cautivaste de quien hoy se va y lleva las llaves de mi libertad. Dejadme llorar, orillas del mar. Dulce madre mía, ¿quién no llorará, aunque tenga el pecho como un pedernal y no dará voces viendo marchitar los más verdes años de mi mocedad? Dejadme llorar, orillas del mar. En llorar conviertan mis ojos, de hoy más, el sabroso oficio del dulce mirar, pues que no se pueden mejor ocupar, yéndose a la guerra quien era mi paz. Dejadme llorar, Orillas del mar.

THE MOST BEAUTIFUL GIRL The most beautiful girl Of our place, Today a widow and alone And yesterday about to marry. Seeing that her beloved (lit. "her eyes") Is going to war, Says to her mother Attentive to her pain/misfortune, Let me weep By the seashore. Well, you gave me, mother, At such a tender age, Such a short pleasure, Such a long grief, And you made me captive Of the one who leaves today And takes away the keys Of my freedom. Let me weep By the seashore Sweet mother of mine, Who will not cry, Even with a heart As hard as a flint And will not cry out As they see The greenest years Of my youth wither? Let me weep By the seashore. Let my eyes, from now on, Turn into tears The delicious function Of sweet sight, Since they can't Be of a better use, As the one who was my peace Leaves for war Let me weep By the seashore.

Here is the original poem written in 1580 by Luís de Góngora y Argote (1561-1627)

LA MÁS BELLA NIÑA La más bella niña De nuestro lugar, Hoy viuda y sola Y ayer por casar, Viendo que sus ojos A la guerra van, A su madre dice, Que escucha su mal: Dejadme llorar Orillas del mar. Pues me diste, madre, En tan tierna edad Tan corto el placer, Tan largo el pesar, Y me cautivaste De quien hoy se va Y lleva las llaves De mi libertad. Dejadme llorar Orillas del mar. En llorar conviertan Mis ojos, de hoy más, El sabroso oficio Del dulce mirar, Pues que no se pueden Mejor ocupar, Yéndose a la guerra Quien era mi paz. Dejadme llorar Orillas del mar.

No me pongáis freno Ni queráis culpar, Que lo uno es justo, Lo otro por demás. Si me queréis bien, No me hagáis mal; Harto peor fuera Morir y callar. Dejadme llorar Orillas del mar. Dulce madre mía, ¿Quién no llorará, Aunque tenga el pecho Como un pedernal, Y no dará voces Viendo marchitar Los más verdes años De mi mocedad? Dejadme llorar Orillas del mar. Váyanse las noches, Pues ido se han Los ojos que hacían Los míos velar; Váyanse, y no vean Tanta soledad, Después que en mi lecho Sobra la mitad. Dejadme llorar Orillas del mar.

Translation of the two verses not included in the song sung by Paco Ibáñez

Don't stop me And don't blame me, As the former is fair The latter is pointless. If you wish me good/if you love me well, Don't hurt me; To die and hush Would be much worse.

Let the nights go away Since have gone The eyes that made Mine stay awake; Let them go and not see So much loneliness After half of my bed Is useless.

Paco Ibáñez original recording (1964)
Live rendition in Alcázar de San Juan on 2018/08/21.
You'll find a rhyming English version on the Antiwar Songs site

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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Mudcat singaround songs NOT in English
From: Felipa
Date: 01 Mar 21 - 06:08 PM

1 March - Teannaibh Dlùth is Togaibh Fonn
Scottish Gaelic

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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Mudcat singaround songs NOT in English
From: Monique
Date: 01 Mar 21 - 11:13 AM

Sung by Steve Belsey

HEJ BYSTRÁ VODA (Czech)

Hej bystrá voda bystrá vodička
plakalo děvče pro Janíčka
hej lese temný vršku zelený
kde je můj Janík přemilený
Hej povídali hej povídali
hej že Janíčka pobodali
hej pobodali ho oravjani
hej za ovečky za berany
Hej bystrá voda bystrá vodička
plakalo děvče pro Janíčka
hej u té zadní oravské stěny
leží Janíček zahlušený

Čechomor recording - Čechomor live rendition.

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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Mudcat singaround songs NOT in English
From: Monique
Date: 01 Mar 21 - 03:24 AM

Sung by Steve Belsey

VOJÁK (Czech) Když sem nezahynul když ta vojna byla Když sem nezahynul když ta vojna byla Také nezahynu také nezahynu když už pominula Také nezahynu také nezahynu když už pominula Když sem nezahynul ve francouzských lukách Když sem nezahynul ve francouzských lukách Také nezahynu také nezahynu své panence v rukách Také nezahynu také nezahynu své panence v rukách Když sem nezahynul mezi Rakušany Když sem nezahynul mezi Rakušany Také nezahynu také nezahynu mezi svými pány Také nezahynu také nezahynu mezi svými pány

SOLDIER (Translation) When I didn't die when the war was When I didn't die when the war was I will not die either I will not die either when it passed I will not die either I will not die either when it passed When I didn't die on French meadows When I didn't die on French meadows I will not die either I will not die either in the hands of my beloved I will not die either I will not die either in the hands of my beloved When I didn't die among the Austrians When I didn't die among the Austrians I will not die either I will not die either among my lords I will not die either I will not die either among my lords

Čechomor live rendition
Sheet music

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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Mudcat singaround songs NOT in English
From: Monique
Date: 28 Feb 21 - 10:19 AM

MŪSŲ DIENOS KAIP ŠVENTĖ! (Lithuanian) Music: Vytautas Kernagis (1951 – 2008), Lyrics Salomėja Nėris (1904-1945) & Vytautas Kernagis. Mano gimtinė esi, mėlynas Nemuno vingi Tau aš dėkingas esu už savo skausmą ir viltį Baltijos jūra lengvai supa svajonių laivelį O tarp žalių ežerų, stovi malūnas prie kelio Mūsų dienos kaip šventė, kaip žydėjimas vyšnios Tad skubėkim gyventi, nes prabėgs nebegrįš Tad skubėkime džiaugtis, lai prabėgs nebegrįš jos Mūsų dienos kaip šventė, kaip žydėjimas vyšnios. Čia aš gimiau ir jaučiau metų prasmingą lėkimą, Čia su visais dainavau - koks aš gražus ir laimingas Skamba oi skamba šilai nuo mūsų laimės ir juoko, Jeigu jums liūdna labai, jūs būtinai atvažiuokite čia - pas mus, nes Mūsų dienos kaip šventė, kaip žydėjimas vyšnios Tad skubėkim gyventi, nes prabėgs nebegrįš Tad skubėkime džiaugtis, lai prabėgs nebegrįš jos Mūsų dienos kaip šventė, kaip žydėjimas vyšnios.

OUR DAYS AS A HOLIDAY ! (Translation by Google Translate) You are my homeland, the blue bends of the Nemunas I am grateful to you for your pain and hope The Baltic Sea easily surrounds the dream boat And among the green lakes, stands a mill by the road Our days are like a celebration, like a flowering cherry So let's hurry to live, because it will not return So let’s hurry to rejoice so that she will run away and not return Our days as a celebration, as a flowering cherry. Here I was born and felt the meaningful flight of the year, Here I sang with everyone - how beautiful and happy I am Sounds oh sounds silly from our happiness and laughter, If you are very sad, you should definitely come here - to us because Our days as a celebration, as a flowering cherry So let's hurry to live, because it will not return So let’s hurry to rejoice so that she will run away and not return Our days as a celebration, as a flowering cherry.

Sheet music
Vytautas Kernagis live rendition
Sheet music (©)

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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Mudcat singaround songs NOT in English
From: Monique
Date: 24 Feb 21 - 03:49 PM

The Cossack Lullaby (Russian: Казачья колыбельная песня) is a cradle song that Russian writer Mikhail Lermontov (1814-1841) wrote in 1838 during his exile in Caucasus. (Wikipedia)

КАЗАЧЬЯ КОЛЫБЕЛЬНАЯ ПЕСНЯ (Russian) Спи, младенец мой прекрасный, ‎Баюшки-баю. Тихо смотрит месяц ясный ‎В колыбель твою. Стану сказывать я сказки, ‎Песенку спою; Ты ж дремли, закрывши глазки, ‎Баюшки-баю. По камням струится Терек, ‎Плещет мутный вал; Злой чечен ползет на берег, ‎Точит свой кинжал; Но отец твой — старый воин, ‎Закален в бою: Спи, малютка, будь спокоен, ‎Баюшки-баю. Сам узнаешь, будет время, ‎Бранное житье; Смело вденешь ногу в стремя ‎И возьмешь ружье. Я седельце боевое ‎Шелком разошью... Спи, дитя мое родное, ‎Баюшки-баю. Богатырь ты будешь с виду ‎И казак душой. Провожать тебя я выйду — ‎Ты махнешь рукой... Сколько горьких слез украдкой ‎Я в ту ночь пролью!.. Спи, мой ангел, тихо, сладко, ‎Баюшки-баю. Стану я тоской томиться, ‎Безутешно ждать; Стану целый день молиться, ‎По ночам гадать; Стану думать, что скучаешь ‎Ты в чужом краю... Спи ж, пока забот не знаешь, ‎Баюшки-баю. Дам тебе я на дорогу ‎Образок святой: Ты его, моляся богу, ‎Ставь перед собой; Да, готовясь в бой опасный, ‎Помни мать свою... Спи, младенец мой прекрасный, ‎Баюшки-баю.

COSSACK LULLABY Sleep, my beautiful baby Bayushki-bayu. Quietly the clear moon looks Into your cradle. I'll tell you a story I'll sing a song; And you sleep with your eyes closed, Bayushki-bayu. The Terek flows over the stones, A muddy wave splashes; An evil Chechen crawls to the shore Sharpening his dagger; But your father is an old warrior, Forged in battle: Sleep, baby, be calm Bayushki-bayu. You will find out when the time is right A warrior's life; You'll put your foot in the stirrup And take your gun. The saddle cloth for your battle horse I will sew it with silk ... Sleep, my dear child, Bayushki-bayu. You will look like a hero And a Cossack in soul. I'll go out to see you – You'll wave your hand ... How many bitter tears I'll furtively spill that night! Sleep, my angel, quietly, sweetly, Bayushki-bayu. I'll be longing for you I'll wait without consolation; I will pray all day long. I'll tell fortune at night; I'll think that you're in trouble In a foreign land ... Sleep while you know no sorrows Bayushki-bayu. I'll give you on the road A holy icon: When you're praying to God, Put it in front of you; Yes, when preparing for a dangerous battle, Remember your mother ... Sleep, my beautiful baby Bayushki-bayu.

TRANSLITERATION (not "pronunciation") 1- Spi, mladenets moy prekrasnyy, ‎ Bayushki-bayu. Tikho smotrit mesyats yasnyy ‎ V kolybel' tvoyu. Stanu skazyvat' ya skazki, ‎ Pesenku spoyu; Ty zh dremli, zakryvshi glazki, ‎Bayushki-bayu. 2- Po kamnyam struitsya Terek, ‎ Pleshchet mutnyy val; Zloy chechen polzet na bereg, ‎ Tochit svoy kinzhal; No otets tvoy — staryy voin, ‎Zakalen v boyu: Spi, malyutka, bud' spokoyen, ‎Bayushki-bayu. 3- Sam uznayesh', budet vremya, ‎ Brannoye zhit'ye; Smelo vdenesh' nogu v stremya ‎ I voz'mesh' ruzh'ye. Ya sedel'tse boyevoye ‎ Shelkom razosh'yu... Spi, ditya moye rodnoye, ‎ Bayushki-bayu.

4- Bogatyr' ty budesh' s vidu ‎ I kazak dushoy. Provozhat' tebya ya vyydu — ‎ Ty makhnesh' rukoy... Skol'ko gor'kikh slez ukradkoy ‎ YA v tu noch' prol'yu!.. Spi, moy angel, tikho, sladko, ‎ Bayushki-bayu. 5- Stanu ya toskoy tomit'sya, ‎ Bezuteshno zhdat'; Stanu tselyy den' molit'sya, ‎ Po nocham gadat'; Stanu dumat', chto skuchayesh' ‎ Ty v chuzhom krayu... Spi zh, poka zabot ne znayesh', ‎ Bayushki-bayu. 6- Dam tebe ya na dorogu ‎ Obrazok svyatoy: Ty yego, molyasya bogu, ‎ Stav' pered soboy; Da, gotovyas' v boy opasnyy, ‎ Pomni mat' svoyu... Spi, mladenets moy prekrasnyy, ‎ Bayushki-bayu.

Recording and pretty drawings (Verses 1, 4, 5, 6)
Zoopark group recording ("Cossack Lullaby". author of verses: Russian great poet Mikhail Lermontov, singer: Alexander Donskikh, Album 'ReMaik' -2000 by "Zoopark" group).
Sheet music (bottom of the page)

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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Mudcat singaround songs NOT in English
From: Monique
Date: 24 Feb 21 - 04:41 AM

ADIO QUERIDA (Judaeo-Spanish) Tu madre cuando te parió y te quitó al mundo corazón ella no te dió para amar segundo Estribillo Adio, adio querida no quero la vida, me l' tomastes tu. Adio, adio querida no quero la vida, me l'amargastes tu. Va buxcate otro amor aharva otras puertas, aspera otro ardor, que para mi sos muerta. Adio...

FAREWELL BELOVED When your mother gave birth to you And "released" you into the world, She didn't give you a heart To love another Chorus Farewell, farewell beloved, I don't want this life (lit. "the"), You took it away from me, Farewell, farewell beloved, I don't want this life You made it bitter (lit. "to me") Go, look for another love, Knock down other doors, Hope/Wait for another ardor, As you're dead for me.

Note that you can find it with different spellings.
Sefaradizo.org with lyrics in Latin letters + Hebrew spelling + Spanish translation +notes when you move your mouse over the text.
Jewish Traditions for Classical and Fingerstyle Guitar, Traditional Jewish Melodies Arranged for Guitar: Solos and Duets, Ellen S. Whitaker, page 3 (I could access it only once but it's interesting).
Sheet music pdf
Recording by Gothart
Another rendition
Recording by Joaquín Díaz
Sheet music

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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Mudcat singaround songs NOT in English
From: Monique
Date: 23 Feb 21 - 11:54 AM

Barbara, born Monique Andrée Serf (1930-1997) was a well-known French singer and songwriter. "Göttingen" is one of her most well-known songs along with "L'aigle noir", "Une petite cantate", "Dis, quand reviendras-tu"...

GÖTTINGEN (French) © Barbara Bien sûr, ce n'est pas la Seine, Ce n'est pas le bois de Vincennes, Mais c'est bien joli tout de même, À Göttingen, à Göttingen. Pas de quais et pas de rengaines Qui se lamentent et qui se traînent, Mais l'amour y fleurit quand même, À Göttingen, à Göttingen. Ils savent mieux que nous, je pense, L'histoire de nos rois de France, Herman, Peter, Helga et Hans, À Göttingen. Et que personne ne s'offense, Mais les contes de notre enfance, "Il était une fois" commence À Göttingen. Bien sûr nous, nous avons la Seine Et puis notre bois de Vincennes, Mais Dieu que les roses sont belles À Göttingen, à Göttingen. Nous, nous avons nos matins blêmes Et l'âme grise de Verlaine, Eux c'est la mélancolie même, À Göttingen, à Göttingen. Quand ils ne savent rien nous dire, Ils restent là à nous sourire Mais nous les comprenons quand même, Les enfants blonds de Göttingen. Et tant pis pour ceux qui s'étonnent Et que les autres me pardonnent, Mais les enfants ce sont les mêmes, À Paris ou à Göttingen. Ô faites que jamais ne revienne Le temps du sang et de la haine Car il y a des gens que j'aime, À Göttingen, à Göttingen. Et lorsque sonnerait l'alarme, S'il fallait reprendre les armes, Mon cœur verserait une larme Pour Göttingen, pour Göttingen. Mais c'est bien joli tout de même, À Göttingen, à Göttingen. Et lorsque sonnerait l'alarme, S'il fallait reprendre les armes, Mon cœur verserait une larme Pour Göttingen, pour Göttingen

GÖTTINGEN Of course, it's not the Seine It's not Vincennes' wood, But it's very pretty anyway In Göttingen, in Göttingen. No quays and no old tunes moaning and dragging on But love still blossoms there In Göttingen, in Göttingen. They know better that us, I think, The history of the kings of France Herman, Peter, Helga and Hans, In Göttingen. Let nobody get offended, But the tales of our childhood, "Once upon a time" starts In Göttingen. Of course, we have the Seine And our Vincennes' wood, But God, how beautiful the roses are In Göttingen, in Göttingen. We, we have our pale mornings, The grey soul of Verlaine, Them, they are melancholy itself In Göttingen, in Göttingen. When they don't have anything to say, They stay there and smile to us But we understand them anyway The blond children of Göttingen. Too bad for those who are surprised May the others forgive me, But children are the same, In Paris or in Göttingen. Oh, may the time of blood and hatred never come back Because there are people I love In Göttingen, in Göttingen. And when the alarm should sound, If we had to take up arms again My heart would shed a tear For Göttingen, for Göttingen. But still, it's very pretty In Göttingen, in Göttingen. And when the alarm should sound, If we had to take up arms again My heart would shed a tear For Göttingen, for Göttingen.

Live rendition with French and English subtitles. 1964 recording
Sheet music (©)

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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Mudcat singaround songs NOT in English
From: Monique
Date: 16 Feb 21 - 11:58 AM

LA CALHA (Occitan) (O calha, bèla calha) Oh, calha, bèla calha ont as ton nis?(x2) Aval, dedins la prada, lo long del riu (x2) Oh, calha, bèla calha, de qu'es bastit?(x2) Es de borra de lèbre e de lapin (x2) Oh, calha, bèla calha, qué i a dedins?(x2) Dos uòus coma los autres mes pus polits(x2) Oh, calha, bèla calha, qual te noirís?(x2) Son tres polidas sòrres de mon país(x2) Una me pòrta l'aiga, l'autra lo vin (x2) L'autra la cançoneta per m'endormir (x2)

THE QUAIL (Oh, Quail, Pretty Quail) Oh, quail, pretty quail, where is your nest?(x2) Down in the meadow, along the river (x2) Oh, quail, pretty quail, what is it made of?(x2) It's made of hare and rabbit fur(x2) Oh, quail, pretty quail, what is there inside?(x2) Two eggs like any other, but prettier (x2) Oh, quail, pretty quail, who's feeding you (x2) Three pretty sisters from my country (x2) One brings me water, the other one, wine (x2) The other one, a little song to lull me to sleep (x2)

This song is a bourrée dance song (the verses order is different). Here is another live rendition. Recording of a version collected by Joseph Canteloube.
You'll also find the lyrics, a translation, a sheet music and a midi file, an mp3 and embeded YouTube videos on Mama Lisa's World (self advertising).
Sometimes the nest is "pel puèch de la bastida" (on/around the farm hill).

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Subject: RE: Mudcat Worldwide Singaround - On Zoom Mondays
From: Splott Man
Date: 16 Feb 21 - 07:08 AM

Here are the words to the Welsh song we played last night at the Worldwide Zoom.

It is to the poet Ellis Evans, whose bardic name was Hedd Wyn, meaning Sacred Peace (or White Peace, or Blessed Peace – in Welsh every word has several meanings depending on context).
He lived in Trawsfynydd and died at the Battle of Pilkem Ridge in 1917, aged 30. A week later he was announced winner of the Bardic Chair at the National Eisteddfod, and a black cloth was draped over his chair in his honour.

Hedd Wyn (Wikipedia article)

CÂN Y BUGAIL (Welsh) (gan Gerint Jarman a Meic Stephens) Mae cwmwl y Cadair Idris Mae cychod ar Lyn y Bala Y gwynt sy’n chwythu dros Berwyn mawr. Mae’n chwythu mor ysmala. Cytgan:         Ond dydy bugail ddim ar y bryniau mwy,         Fe eith ymaith o Drawsfynydd.         Wedi mynd mae Bardd y Cadair Ddu         I ymlaidd yn y ffosydd. Yn Aberdyfi, mae’r môr yn las. Y tonnau tal o’r traethau. Ac yn a caeau, y ffermwyr sydd Yn gweithio trwy’r tymhorau. Yn Ffestiniog, chwarelwyr sydd. Ond does dim gwaith yn galw. Ac yn Nhrwawsfynydd, ar lan y llyn, Mae’r wyn yn araf farw.

SONG OF THE SHEPHERD (by Gerint Jarman and Meic Stephens) A cloud lies on Cadair Idris There are boats on the lake at Bala The winds blows over the high Berwyn It blows so lightly. Chorus:         But the shepherd is no longer on the hills         He went away from Trawsfynydd         Gone is the Bard of the Black Chair         To fight in the trenches. At Aberdyfi the sea is blue The tall waves from the beaches And in the fields are the farmers Working throughout the season. In Ffestiniog there are quarrymen But no jobs are calling on them And in Trawsfynydd, on the lake shore The lambs are slowly dying.

Splott Man

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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Mudcat singaround songs NOT in English
From: Monique
Date: 12 Feb 21 - 08:49 AM

Sung by Steve Belsey

SLUNÉČKO (Czech) Slunéčko zachodí za Janovu horu a už bude večer, chvála pánu Bohu. Slunéčko zachodí za veliký kámen a moje srdénko zahoří jak plamen. Zahoří, zahoří bolesťú na dlúze že moja frajarka do večera umře. Zkazujú, zkazujú do širého pola, mú milú nezralú Smtolka dostala. Už nám ta děvinka už nám zahynula, neščastná láska ta jú kosila. Slunéčko zachodí za Janovu horu a už bude večer, chvála pánu Bohu.

(LITTLE) SUN The sun sets behind John's mountain the evening is coming, thank God The sun sets behind a big stone and my heart is burning like a flame It is burning in pain for long because my beloved girl is going to die this evening I am screaming into the open field death took my beloved girl The girl has already died unhappy love killed her The sun sets behind John's mountain the evening is coming, thank God

Translation borrowed from Lyricstranslate 1 - Lyricstranslate 2
Čechomor recording 1
Another live rendition
Čechomor live rendition 2004
Čechomor website

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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Mudcat singaround songs NOT in English
From: Monique
Date: 10 Feb 21 - 04:22 AM

"La chanson des vieux amants" (Gérard Jouannest [1933 – 2018] Jacques Brel [1929 – 1978]) was recorded in 1967. It was dedicated to Brel's wife Thérèse née Michielsen (1926-2020) he'd met 20 years earlier.

LA CHANSON DES VIEUX AMANTS (French) © Gérard Jouannest / Jacques Brel Bien sûr nous eûmes des orages Vingt ans d’amour c’est l’amour fol Mille fois tu pris ton bagage, Mille fois je pris mon envol Et chaque meuble se souvient Dans cette chambre sans berceau Des éclats de vieilles tempêtes Plus rien ne ressemblait à rien, Tu avais perdu le goût de l’eau Et, moi, celui de la conquête. Mais, mon amour, mon doux, mon tendre, Mon merveilleux amour, De l’aube claire jusqu’à la fin du jour Je t’aime encore, tu sais, je t’aime. Moi, je sais tous tes sortilèges Tu sais tous mes envoutements Tu m’as gardé de pièges en pièges Je t’ai perdue de temps en temps. Bien sûr tu pris quelques amants, Il fallait bien passer le temps Il faut bien que le corps exulte Finalement, finalement, Il nous fallut bien du talent Pour être vieux sans être adultes ! Oh, mon amour, mon doux, mon tendre, Mon merveilleux amour, De l’aube claire jusqu’à la fin du jour Je t’aime encore, tu sais, je t’aime. Et plus le temps nous fait cortège, Et plus le temps nous fait tourment, Mais n’est-ce pas le pire piège Que vivre en paix pour des amants ? Bien sûr tu pleures un peu moins tôt, Je me déchire un peu plus tard Nous protégeons moins nos mystères On laisse moins faire le hasard, On se méfie du fil de l’eau Mais c’est toujours la tendre guerre Oh mon amour, mon doux, mon tendre, Mon merveilleux amour, De l’aube claire jusqu’à la fin du jour Je t’aime encore, tu sais, je t’aime.

THE SONG OF THE OLD LOVERS Of course we had storms, Twenty years of love, it's crazy love A thousand times, you packed your bags A thousand times, I took flight And every piece of furniture remembers, In this bedroom without a cradle, The outbursts of old tempests. Nothing was itself any more, You had lost the taste for water And I, the one of conquest. But my love, my sweet, my tender My marvelous love From the clear dawn until the end of the day I love you still, you know, I love you I, I know all your spells You know all my bewitchments You kept me from trap to trap I have lost you from time to time Of course you took some lovers The time had to be spent The body well has to exult But finally, finally It required us quite a lot of talent To be old without being adult Oh my love, my sweet, my tender My marvelous love From the clear dawn until the end of the day I love you still, you know, I love you And the more time escorts us And the more time gives us torment But isn't it the worst trap To live in peace for lovers? Of course you cry a bit less early I tear myself up a bit later We protect our mysteries less We are less confident in luck We are wary of the current But it's still the tender war Oh my love, my sweet, my tender My marvelous love From the clear dawn until the end of the day I love you still, you know, I love you

Translation borrowed from this blog -I made some changes.

Recording by Jacques Brel
Recording by Judy :Collins
Sheet music (©)

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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Mudcat singaround songs NOT in English
From: Monique
Date: 06 Feb 21 - 05:21 AM

Anna van der Leeuw (11 December 1939 – 30 June 2019), better known by her stage name Anne Vanderlove, was a Dutch-born French singer and songwriter.

BALLADE EN NOVEMBRE (French) © Anna Van Der Leeuw, Yanis Spanos - 1967 Qu'on me laisse à mes souvenirs, Qu'on me laisse à mes amours mortes, Il est temps de fermer la porte, Il se fait temps d'aller dormir Je n'étais pas toujours bien mise J'avais les cheveux dans les yeux Mais c'est ainsi qu'il m'avait prise, Je crois bien qu'il m'aimait un peu Refrain : Il pleut Sur le jardin, sur le rivage Et si j'ai de l'eau dans les yeux C'est qu'il me pleut sur le visage. Le vent du Nord qui s'amoncelle S'amuse seul dans mes cheveux Je n'étais pas toujours bien belle, Mais je crois qu'il m'aimait un peu Ma robe a toujours ses reprises Et j'ai toujours les cheveux fous Mais c'est ainsi qu'il m'avait prise, Je crois que je l'aimais beaucoup (Refrain) Si j'ai fondu tant de chandelles Depuis le temps qu'on ne s'est vus Et si je lui reste fidèle, À quoi me sert tant de vertu ? Qu'on me laisse à mes amours mortes ! Qu'on me laisse à mes souvenirs Mais avant de fermer la porte, Qu'on me laisse le temps d'en rire Le temps d'essayer d'en sourire... (Refrain)

BALLAD IN NOVEMBER Let me brood over my memories. Let me brood over my long-gone love. The time has come to close the door, It is time to go to sleep. I wasn't always smartly dressed, My hair was falling in my eyes, But he accepted me that way. I believe he somewhat loved me. (chorus) It's raining Over the garden, over the shore, And if my eyes are full of water It's only the rain falling on my face. The gathering North wind Frolicks on its own in my hair. I sometimes wasn't that pretty, But I think he somewhat loved me. My dress is still patched And my hair is still wild, But he accepted me that way. I believe I loved him a lot. (chorus) I might have melted many candles Since the distant day we last met, I might have been faithful to him, But what good is such a high virtue? Let me brood over my long-gone love! Let me brood over my memories! But, before closing the door, Allow me some time to laugh Before I try to smile about it... (chorus)

Translation borrowed from Lyricstranslate.com with some edition.

original 1967 recording - 2011 live rendition
Sheet music (©)

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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Mudcat singaround songs NOT in English
From: Monique
Date: 05 Feb 21 - 05:03 AM

Sung by Gerry Myerson

V'CHITETU CHARVOTAM (Hebrew) (From the Bible) V'chitetu charvotam l'itim Vachanitoteihem l'mazmerot Lo yisa goi el goi cherev V'lo yilm'du od milchama Yo yare'u v'lo yashchitu v'lo yashchitu

AND THEY SHALL BEAT THEIR SWORDS INTO PLOWSHARES And they shall beat their swords into plowshares, And their spears into pruninghooks Nation shall not lift up sword against nation, Neither shall they learn war anymore And they will do no evil, and they will do not wrong.

Hebrew lyrics:

וכיתתו חרבותם לאיתים וחניתותיהם למזמרות לא ישא גוי אל גוי חרב ולא ילמדו עוד מלחמה לא ירעו ולא ישחיתו ולא ישחיתו

Rendition by Tzipi Zernkin

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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Mudcat singaround songs NOT in English
From: Monique
Date: 05 Feb 21 - 03:08 AM

Anne Sylvestre (1934-2020) was a French singer and songwriter better known for her children's songs. Most people below 40-45 have sung Hérisson son son, Berceuse pour une pomme or any of her "fabulettes" during their school years.

QUE VOUS ÊTES BEAUX (French) (1986 – ©Anne Sylvestre) Que vous êtes beaux, Vous n'aimez pas qu'on vous le dise. Que vous êtes beaux, Quand les années vous fragilisent Et vous prenez de haut, Disant que ce sont des bêtises, Tous ces tendres mots, Croyez pas qu'ils vous minimisent, Ne soyez pas sots. Que vous êtes beaux Quand il vous tombe un peu de neige. Que vous êtes beaux Quand vous vous sentez pris au piège Et que votre front haut N'a bientôt rien qui le protège. Qui a dit qu'il faut Conserver tous ses privilèges? Ne pleurez pas trop. Que vous êtes beaux Quand il vous vient des places tendres. Que vous êtes beaux Quand vous prenez quelques méandres Et que, sur votre peau On peut enfin, sans se méprendre, Suivre les canaux, Dessiner la carte du Tendre Plus incognito. Que vous êtes beaux Quand vous prenez de la charpente. Que vous êtes beaux Quand vous améliorez la pente Et qu'on ne sait pas trop Si ce confort qui nous enchante On l'eût aimé plus tôt, Il se pourrait bien qu'on se sente Un peu plus au chaud. Que vous êtes beaux Quand l'arrogance, un peu, vous passe. Que vous êtes beaux Quand vous ressentez la menace Et qu'alors il vous faut Malgré tout ce qui vous tracasse Sans courber le dos Enfin, vous regarder en face, Mais pianissimo Que vous êtes beaux Quand votre enfance s'éternise. Que vous êtes beaux Mais je sais qu'il n'est pas de mise De dire ces mots Qui vous font peur et qui vous grisent N'attendez pas trop, Permettez enfin qu'on vous dise Que vous êtes beaux

HOW BEAUTIFUL YOU ARE How beautiful you are, You don't like to be told. How beautiful you are When the years weaken you And you look down, Saying this is nonsense, On all these tender words, Don't think they belittle you Don't be silly. How beautiful you are When a little snow falls on you. How beautiful you are When you feel trapped And your high forehead Soon has nothing to protect it. Who said you have To keep all your privileges? Don't cry too much. How beautiful you are, When you find soft places. How beautiful you are When you take a few meanders And that on your skin We can finally, without being mistaken, Follow the canals, Draw the Map of Tendre* More incognito. How beautiful you are When your frame gets stockier. How beautiful you are, When you improve the slope And we don't really know If this comfort that enchants us, We would have liked it earlier, We might well feel A little warmer [against it/leaning on it] How beautiful you are When your arrogance passes a little away. How beautiful you are When you feel the threat And then you need Despite everything that bothers you, Without bending your back, Finally look into your inner selves, But pianissimo How beautiful you are When your childhood drags on. How beautiful you are, But I know it's not good manners To say these words That scare and intoxicate you. Don't wait too long, Allow us at last to tell you That you're beautiful.

*(Both notes from Wiki) The Map of Tendre was a French map of an imaginary land called Tendre. The map represents the path towards love according to the "précieuses" of the time period.
Précieuses: the intellectual, witty and educated women who frequented the gatherings of Catherine de Vivonne, marquise de Rambouillet in the 17th century.

original recording - live rendition

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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Mudcat singaround songs NOT in English
From: Monique
Date: 04 Feb 21 - 07:30 AM

"Parachutiste" (© Bruno Le Forestier) is a song by Maxime Le Forestier (Bruno is his actual first name) (1949 - ). The song is from his first album in 1972)

PARACHUTISTE (French) © Bruno Le Forestier (1949- ) Tu avais juste dix-huit ans Quand on t'a mis un béret rouge, Quand on t'a dit : "Rentre dedans Tout ce qui bouge." C'est pas exprès qu' t'étais fasciste, Parachutiste. Alors, de combat en combat, S'est formée ton intelligence. Tu sais qu'il n'y a ici-bas Que deux engeances : Les gens bien et les terroristes, Parachutiste Puis on t'a donné des galons, Héros de toutes les défaites Pour toutes les bonnes actions Que tu as faites. Tu torturais en spécialiste, Parachutiste. Alors sont venus les honneurs, Les décorations, les médailles Pour chaque balle au fond d´un cœur, Pour chaque entaille, Pour chaque croix noire sur ta liste, Parachutiste Mais, malheureusement pour toi, Bientôt se finira ta guerre : Plus de tueries, plus de combats. Que vas-tu faire ? C'est fini le travail d´artiste, Parachutiste. C'est plus qu´un travail de nana D' commander à ceux qui savent lire, Surtout qu' t'as appris avec moi Ce que veut dire Le mot "antimilitariste", Parachutiste. T'as rien perdu de ton talent, Tu rates pas une embuscade Mais comme on n' tire pas vraiment, Tu trouves ça fade. C´est p't-êt' pour ça qu' t'as les yeux tristes, Parachutiste. Mais si t'es vraiment trop gêné D'être payé à ne rien faire, Tu peux toujours te recycler Chez tes p'tits frères. J' crois qu´on engage dans la Police, Parachutiste.

PARATROOPER You were only eighteen years old When they put a red beret on your head And told you "Give a good beating To anything that moves". You weren't a fascist on purpose, Paratrooper. And so, fight after fight, Your intelligence was forged. Now you know there are only Two types on earth: Good people and terrorists, Paratrooper. And then you earned your stripes, A hero in every defeat For all the good deeds You did. Torture was your specialty, Paratrooper. And then came the honors, Decorations and medals For each bullet through a heart, For each knife cut, For each black cross on your list, Paratrooper. But, unfortunately for you, Your war will be over soon: No more killing, no more battles. What are you going to do? The craftsman's work is over, Paratrooper. Nothing but a sissy's job left, Bossing around people who can read. Especially since I was the one Who taught you the meaning Of the word "anti-militarist" Paratrooper. Your skills are still finely honed, You never fail an ambush, But since we don't shoot for real, You find that dull. Maybe that's why your eyes are so sad, Paratrooper. Now if you feel really awkward, Getting paid for doing nothing, You still can go retrain Among your little brothers. I think the police is recruiting, Paratrooper.

I borrowed from both this translation and this one from lyricstranslate.com and changed some things to stick more to the original meaning/wording.

1972 recording, live rendition 50 years later, Catherine Le Forestier recording (his sister), Joan Baez live rendition in 1973.
Sheet music (©)

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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Mudcat singaround songs NOT in English
From: Monique
Date: 03 Feb 21 - 05:13 AM

Sung by Steve Belsey.

PROMĚNY (Czech) Darmo sa ty trápíš, můj milý synečku, nenosím já tebe, nenosím v srdéčku. Přece tvoja nebudu, ani jednu hodinu. Copak sobě myslíš, má milá panenko, vždyť ty jsi to moje rozmilé srdénko. A ty musíš býti má, lebo mi tě pán Bůh dá. A já sa udělám malú veveričkú, a uskočím tobě z dubu na jedličku. Přece tvoja nebudu, ani jednu hodinu. A já chovám doma takú sekerečku, ona mi podetne důbek i jedličku. A ty musíš býti má, lebo mi tě pán Bůh dá. A já sa udělám tu malú rybičkú, a já ti uplynu pryč po Dunajíčku. Přece tvoja nebudu, ani jednu hodinu. A já chovám doma takovú udičku, co na ni ulovím kdejakú rybičku. A ty přece budeš má, lebo mi tě pán Bůh dá. A já sa udělám tú velikú vranú a já ti uletím na uherskú stranu. Přece tvoja nebudu, ani jednu hodinu. A já chovám doma starodávnú kušu, co ona vystřelí všeckým vranám dušu. A ty musíš býti má, lebo mi tě pán Bůh dá. A já sa udělám hvězdičkú na nebi a já budu lidem svítiti na zemi. Přece tvoja nebudu, ani jednu hodinu. A sú u nás doma takoví hvězdáři, co vypočítajú hvězdičky na nebi. A ty musíš býti má, lebo mi tě pán Bůh dá. A ty musíš býti má, lebo mi tě pán Bůh dá.

TRANSFORMATIONS You worry in vain, my dear boy I don't carry you in my heart I won't be yours, not even for one hour What do you think, my dear girl You are my sweet heart You have to be mine, because the God will give you to me And I'll make myself a little squirrel And I'll jump away from you from the oak to the fir I won't be yours, not even for one hour And I keep an ax at home It can cut off the oak and fir You have to be mine, because the God will give you to me And I'll make myself a little fish And I'll swim away in Danube from you I won't be yours, not even for one hour And I keep a rod at home I can catch every fish with it You have to be mine, because the God will give you to me And I'll make myself a big crow And I'll fly away from you to Hungary I won't be yours, not even for one hour And I keep an ancient crossbow at home It can shoot a soul from any crow You have to be mine, because the God will give you to me And I'll make myself a star on the sky And I'll be shining for the people on Earth I won't be yours, not even for one hour And there are astronomers in my homeland They can count the stars on the sky You have to be mine, because the God will give you to me You have to be mine, because the God will give you to me

Translation borrowed from Lyricstranslate.com

This song has been collected by František Sušil in his Moravské národní písně s nápěvy do textu vřaděnými. Anton Dvořák used it for his A já ti uplynu Moravian Duet.
This theme of transformations can also be found in the British The Two Magicians, the French/Canadian French Si tu te mets anguille , the Occitan Magali by Frédéric Mistral.

Čechomor live rendition
Sheet music 1, Sheet music 2

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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Mudcat singaround songs NOT in English
From: Monique
Date: 02 Feb 21 - 05:46 PM

TROIS MARINS DE GROIX (French) Nous étions deux, nous étions trois (bis) Nous étions trois marins de Groix. Landéri-tra, lon lon la, Landéri-tra lon-lire. Mon matelot, le mouss' et moi, (bis) Embarqués sur le Saint-François Landéri-tra…. Pour aller de Belle-Île à Groix, (bis) Grand vent du nord vint à venter. En haut, en haut, beaux mariniers (bis) À prendre un ris dans les huniers, "Jean-Pierre, dis-je, matelot, (bis) À serrer d' la toil’, qu'il nous faut, Ce failli temps n' mollira pas, (bis) Je prends la barre, vas-y mon gars. " S'en est monté pour prendre un ris (bis) Un paquet d’ mer l'aura surpris… On n’a r’trouvé que son chapeau (bis) Son garde-pip’ et son couteau Au jour j’ai revu son sabot (bis) Qui flottait seul, là-bas sur l'eau, Sa pauvre maman s'en est allée (bis) Prier à Sainte Anne d'Auray. Sainte Anne, rendez-moi mon garçon (bis) Il était jeune, il était blond. Et Sainte Anne lui répondit : (bis) Tu le verras en paradis. Plaignez mon pauvre matelot (bis) Sa femme et ses trois petiots

THREE SEAMEN OF GROIX (Singable translation by Casey [Diplocase]) We were two, and we were three (x2) Three sailors out of Groix* were we My old shipmate, the lad and me (x2) Aboard the little St. François Homeward bound, Belle-Île to Groix (x2) Heavy north wind began to blow Aloft, aloft, my fine lads (x2) To take a reef in the tops’ls “We shorten sail, whate’er the cost, (x2) Old shipmate mine, you go aloft.” "This damned old wind will not let up (x2) I’ll take the tiller and you reef up." So up he went to shorten sail (x2) A wave then carried him over the rail His cap we found aboard the boat (x2) His knife and his tobacco pouch And at daybreak I caught a glimpse (x2) of one of his clogs, floating by itself on the sea His poor mother she went to pray (x2) To pray to Saint Anne of Auray** Saint Anne, give me back my boy (x2) So sweet and blonde, so very young And bless’d St. Anne made her reply: (x2) "You’ll see him again in paradise." Mourn for my poor shipmate (x2) His wife and his three little ones

*pronounced ~'Grwa'
**patron saint of Brittany

This song goes back to the late 1700's/early 1800's.
Belle-Île and Groix are two small islands off Auray coast, southern Brittany, ~15 miles from each other (~13 sea miles)

Slightly different version by Les Pirates
another one -
Mikaël Yaouank recording
Different chorus and different tune
Sheet music

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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Mudcat singaround songs NOT in English
From: Monique
Date: 02 Feb 21 - 01:02 PM

JE SUIS TROP JEUNETTE (French) (Trad. French XVth c., singing of Malicorne) 1. Je suis trop jeunette pour faire un ami Mais je suis bien prête d’en faire un joli S’il est à ma porte, il aura mon cœur Je laisserai mon père, ma mère, mon frère, ma sœur (Refrain) Et irai seulette au bois avec lui Cueillir la violette pour passer l’ennui. 2. S’il veut me promettre de me tenir seule Seule à être aimée et de tout son cœur Jamais aurai autre, seulement que lui Ni roi, prince, comte qui vive aujourd’hui (Refrain)

I AM VERY YOUNG (Singable translation by Casey [Diplocase]) 1. I am very young yet, for to have a love Ready though I am, which know’th-God-above If he come to see me, he will have my heart From my sister, my brother, my father and mother depart (Chorus) And alone together to the wood so fine go a-picking violets for to pass the time 2. If he will but promise, and to me alone Hold me to his heart, take no other one I will have no lover, none but only he No man, though King-prince-or-lord might he be (Chorus)

Malicorne recording - Hernan Vives · Flora Gril recording - Mátyás Seiber recording

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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Mudcat singaround songs NOT in English
From: Mrrzy
Date: 02 Feb 21 - 09:07 AM

Hungarian folk song with translation by Mrrzy

ESIK ESŐ, DE NEM ÁZOK (Hungarian) Esik eső, de nem ázok, Cseresznyefa alá állok. Az alatt is azért állok, Arra járnak el a lányok. Beállt Pista katonának, Ott se volt jó a butának, Mert nem tudott szalutálni, Csak a lányok után járni.

IT'S RAINING BUT I AM NOT GETTING WET It's raining but I am not getting wet I go stand under a cherry tree I am also under it because That's where the girls walk Pista went for a soldier [joined up] But it wasn't good there for the idiot Because he couldn't salute But just walk after the girls

Song collected by László Lajtha (1892 - 1963) in Cserépváralja, Borsod county. István Tóth Nógrádi recording.
Sheet music

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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Mudcat singaround songs NOT in English
From: Monique
Date: 31 Jan 21 - 10:04 AM

Sung by Steve Belsey on 2020/08/31. Translation by Google translate

HUSIČKY, (Czech) Husičky, husičky vysoko letíte vysoko letíte daleko vidíte. Zatočte sa kolem nad milého dvorem vzkažte mu novinu, že sa vdávat budu. Už jsem naň čekala pětapadesát let už mě má hlavěnka začíná šedivět. Husičky, husičky vysoko letíte vysoko letíte daleko vidíte.

GEESE GEESE Geese, geese you fly high you fly high you can see far. Turn around over a nice yard tell him the news that I will get married. I've been waiting for him fifty-five years I already have a headache I begin to turn gray. Geese, geese you fly high you fly high you can see far.

Live rendition by Čechomor

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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Mudcat singaround songs NOT in English
From: Monique
Date: 31 Jan 21 - 09:37 AM

Sung by Vikki-YorkshireYankee on 2020/08/24. Translation from Google translate and much editing by me.

"Étoile des neiges" is the French version of the German song "Fliege mit mir in die Heimat". Austrian Franz Winkler composed this song in 1930. There are several covers of this song in several languages such as "Étoile des neiges" in French and "Forever and Ever" in English

ÉTOILE DES NEIGES (French) © Franz Winkler - Jacques Plante Dans un coin perdu de montagne un tout petit savoyard Chantait son amour dans le calme du soir Près de sa bergère au doux regard. Étoile des neiges, mon cœur amoureux S'est pris au piège, de tes grands yeux Je te donne en gage, cette croix d'argent Et de t'aimer toute la vie, j'en fais serment Hélas, soupirait la bergère, que répondront nos parents Comment ferons-nous, nous n'avons pas d'argent Pour nous marier dès le printemps Etoile des neiges, sèche tes beaux yeux Le ciel protège les amoureux Je pars en voyage, pour qu'à mon retour, À tout jamais, plus rien n'empêche notre amour. Alors il partit vers la ville et ramoneur il se fit Sur les cheminées dans le vent et la pluie Comme un petit diable noir de suie Étoile des neiges, sèche tes beaux yeux Le ciel protège les amoureux Ne perds pas courage, il te reviendra Et tu seras bientôt encore entre ses bras Et comme les beaux jours refleurirent, il s'en revint au hameau Et sa fiancée l'attendait tout 1à-haut Parmi les clochettes du troupeau Étoile des neiges, les garçons d'honneur Vont en cortège portant des fleurs Par un mariage finit mon histoire De la bergère et de son petit Savoyard

SNOW STAR In a remote place of the mountain a very young Savoyard Was singing his love in the calm of the evening Near his sweet gazed shepherdess. Snow star, my loving heart Got trapped with your big eyes I give you as a pledge this silver cross And I swear that I'll love you all my life. Alas, sighed the shepherdess, what will our parents answer How will we do, we have no money To get married in the spring Snow star, dry your beautiful eyes The sky protects the lovers I am going on a trip, so that on my return, Nothing will ever prevent our love So he left for the city and he became a chimney sweep On the chimneys in the wind and the rain Like a little devil black with soot Snow star, dry your beautiful eyes The sky protects lovers Don't lose heart, he will come back to you And you will soon be in his arms again And as Spring bloomed again, he returned to the hamlet And his fiancée was waiting for him up there Among the bells of the herd. Snow star, the groomsmen Are going in procession carrying flowers. By a marriage ends my story Of the shepherdess and her little Savoyard

Recording by Jacques Hélian
Recording by Line Renaud

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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Mudcat singaround songs NOT in English
From: Monique
Date: 31 Jan 21 - 08:51 AM

Sung by Steve Belsey on 2020/08/17

PANÍ MÁMO HOSTI JEDÚ (Czech)

Paní mámo hosti jedú,
Kudlavec na předku
Šmatlavec na zadku
A moj najmilejší v prostředku.

Paní mámo co piť budu
Kudlavec pivečko
Šmatlavec vinečko
A moj najmilejší malvaziju

Paní mámo co jesť budu
Kudlavec kuřinu
Šmatlavec husinu
A moj najmilejši kaplaninu

Paní mámo kaj spať budu
Kudlavec nadlavec
Šmatlavec podlavec
A moj najmilejši pod peřinu

Čechomor recording (Čechomor -Wiki)
Jirí Hodina's rendition

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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Mudcat singaround songs NOT in English
From: Monique
Date: 31 Jan 21 - 05:16 AM

Sung by Anne C. on 2020/08/10

BHA MISE RAOIR AIR AN ÀIRIGH (Scottish Gaelic) Bha mise raoir air an àirigh Hù oireann o hù oireann o Cha b' ann ri aighear a bha mi Hi o èileadh ho hoireann o Cha b' ann ri aighear a bha mi Ach a' smaointinn ortsa, ghràidhein 'N dùil nach cumadh am muir-làn thu Nach cumadh lìonadh no tràghadh Nach mò chumadh an tè bhàn thu Dh'aindeoin a cuid chruidh na phràisichbh Dh'fhairich mi crith, cha bu chrith fhuachd i Dh'fhairich mi fear, làimh a b' fhuaire Càradh a chuid airm 'n taobh shuas dhìom Sgaoileadh a bhreacain mum uachdar Dh'aithnich mi nach b' e mo luaidh e Bhuail mi sad air, shrad mi bhuam e Bhuail mi sad air, shrad mi bhuam e 'S thug cùl a chinn lag san luachair

LAST NIGHT I WAS UP AT THE SHIELING Last night I was up at the shieling hù oireann o hù oireann o My time was not spent in jollity hù oireann o hù oireann o My time was not spent in jollity But thinking of you, my darling Sure that high tide would not keep you Neither flowing or ebbing Nor that fair woman would delay you Despite her cattle and wealth Last night I was at the rushy shieling I shivered, and it wasn't the cold I sensed a man with cold hands Placing his armor a little up from me Spreading his plaid over me I knew he wasn't my love My hard blow sent him flying His head lay flopped in the rushes

Rendition by Kathleen MacInnes with 2 sets of lyrics and English translation.
Rendition by Breabach
Rendition of a traditional version from Cape Breton collected by John Lorne Campbell by Marit Fält and Rona Wilkie

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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Mudcat singaround songs NOT in English
From: Monique
Date: 31 Jan 21 - 04:48 AM

Sung by Robert Rodriquez on 2020/08/10

SI ME QUIERES ESCRIBIR / EN El FRENTE DE GANDESA (Spanish) Si me quieres escribir, ya sabes mi paradero,(x2) En el frente de Gandesa primera línea de fuego.(x2) Si tú quieres comer bien, barato y de buena forma. (2x) En el frente de Gandesa, allí tienen una fonda. (2x) En la entrada de la fonda, hay un moro Mojama (2x) Que te dice, "Pasa, pasa ¿qué quieres para comer?" (2x) El primer plato que dan, son granadas rompedoras (2x) El segundo de metralla para recordar memorias (2x)

IF YOU WANT TO WRITE TO ME / ON THE GANDESA FRONT lf you want to write me a letter, you already know my whereabouts. (x2) I'm on the Gandesa Front, in the first line of the fighting.(x2) If you want to eat your fill, good food and cheap,(x2) On the Gandesa Front stands an inn. (x2) At the entrance of this inn there's a Moor by name Mohammed, (x2) Who greets you, "Come in, come in, what do you want to eat?"(x2) The first dish which they serve is fragmentation grenades,(x2) The second dish is a burst of shrapnel to make you remember."(x2)

You also have the lyrics on the Mudcat DT with a nice translation though I changed a few things in this one to be more literal and less nice because "barato" only means "cheap" and there were no "pesos" during the Spanish Civil War, etc.
Rendition by Joaquín Díaz (1973)
Joaquín Díaz (1947- ) is a Spanish musicologist and folklorist whose Fundation website I highly recommend to all interested in Spanish folklore and traditional songs and music (in Spanish only).
Sheet music

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