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Lyr Add: Mudcat singaround songs NOT in English

Related threads:
Mudcat Worldwide Singaround - On Zoom Mondays (129)
Songs from the Mudcat Worldwide Singaround (65)
Worldwide Singaround thread overflow (288)


Monique 23 Jan 21 - 05:09 AM
Monique 23 Jan 21 - 05:16 AM
Monique 23 Jan 21 - 05:22 AM
Monique 23 Jan 21 - 06:19 AM
Mrrzy 23 Jan 21 - 12:18 PM
Monique 23 Jan 21 - 12:32 PM
Mrrzy 23 Jan 21 - 01:27 PM
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Mrrzy 23 Jan 21 - 01:55 PM
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Felipa 23 Jan 21 - 05:15 PM
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Mrrzy 25 Jan 21 - 12:16 PM
Monique 26 Jan 21 - 01:57 PM
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Monique 30 Jan 21 - 02:41 AM
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Subject: Lyr Add: Mudcat singaround songs NOT in English
From: Monique
Date: 23 Jan 21 - 05:09 AM

Hi everybody,

I've thought it'd be useful to have a thread with the lyrics and translations of the songs in other languages sung on Monday's singarounds so that we all can share.
I've made a list of the different songs Gerry has gathered on the Worldwide Singaround thread + the ones I've sung but are not listed.

I wish that all those who sang in Scottish and Irish Gaelic, Czech, Polish and I don't remember what else post the original lyrics and a translation (all I can manage is Romance languages except Romanian) and I'll deal with the tables, links and all this stuff.


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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Mudcat singaround songs NOT in English
From: Monique
Date: 23 Jan 21 - 05:16 AM

THE ORDER OF THE TITLES BELOW DOESN'T MATCH THE ORDER IN WHICH THE LYRICS ARE POSTED.

A
> Adio Querida (Judaeo-Spanish)
> A l'entrada del temps clar (Occitan)
> Andaluces de Jaén   (Spanish)
> Ardaí Cuain (Quiet Land of Erin) (Irish Gaelic)
> Au chant de l'alouette (French - trad. Québec)

B
> Ballade en novembre (French -© Anna van der Leeuw)
> Bha Mise Raoir air an Àirigh (Scottish Gaelic)

C
> Cade l'uliva (Nebbi' a la valle) (Italian dialect)
> Can vei la lauzeta mover (Old Occitan)
> Cân y Bugail (Welsh)
> Canción del jinete (Spanish)
> Chantons pour passer le temps (French)
> Chanson des vieux amants (French - ©Jacques Brel)
> Conseils à la mariée (French)
> Cossack Lullaby (Russian) By Lemontov

D
> Dame Lombarde (French)
> Déjà mal mariée (French)
> Devinhòla (Occitan)
> Don Gato Mudcat thread with many Spanish versions (Spanish),
> Don Gato on Mama Lisa's world with an English translation, a recording, a midi and a sheet music

E
> El vito (Spanish)
> Eli, Eli (Hebrew)
> Étoile des neiges (French - © Franz Winkler - Jacques Plante)
> Esik eső, de nem ázok (Hungarian)
> Evening Bell (Вечерний звон in Russian)

F
Fairytale of New York (in Irish)
> Fear a Bhata [and another Scots/Gaelic song]

G
Give to Me Your Dark Eyes (in Serbo-Croatian)
> Göttingen (French © Barbara)
> Guitare et tambourin (French - © Jean Broussolle, Pete de Angelis)

H
>
Hanerot Halalu below - (Hebrew)
> Hej bystrá voda (Czech)
> Husičky (Czech)

J
> Je suis trop jeunette (French)

L
> La calha (Occitan)
> La chanson des vieux amants (French © Jouannest -Brel)
> L'alouette et le pinson (French)
> La más bella niña (Spanish)
> Leanabh an Aigh (Scottish Gaelic)
> Le fantôme (French -© Georges Brassens)
> Le p'tit bonheur (French - © Félix Leclerc)
> Le soldat mécontent (French)
> Le testament (French -© Georges Brassens)
> Les djinns (French - Poem by Victor Hugo)
> Les filles des forges (French)
> Les trois marins de Groix (French)
> Lili Marlene (in Irish and German)
> Lo soldat desconegut (Occitan)

M
> Micimackó (Hungarian)
> Mon amie la rose (French -©Caulier, Lacôme)
> Mon Beau Sapin (French version of Tannenbaum)
> Mūsų dienos kaip šventė (Lithuanian)

N
> Nadal tindaire (Occitan)
> Non, je ne regrette rien (French -©Charles Dumont/Michel Vaucaire)
> Nous quittons les Pâques (French - trad)

O
> O 'illean bithibh sunndach (Scottish Gaelic)

P
> Paní mámo hosti jedú (Czech)
> Parachutiste (French -©Bruno Le Forestier [Maxime])
> Par derrière chez mon père (French)
> Pastres Rintratz Vòstrei Tropèus (Occitan)
> Por la tu puerta - Gülpembe (Judeo-Spanish and Turkish)
> Proměny (Transformations) (Czech version of Two Magicians)

Q
> Qualo es el uno? (Ladino) (Who Knows One?)
> Que vous êtes beaux (French - © Anne Sylvestre)

R
> Rew di ranno (Carefree the Bird) (Welsh)
> Romance de la luna, luna (Spanish)

S
> Si me quieres escribir (Spanish)
> Slunéčko (Czech -©: František Černý, Karel Holas, traditional)
> Snow Flurry (Метелица -in Russian)

V
> Vamos mujer (Spanish - ©Luis Advis)
> Viva la 15 brigada (Spanish)
> V'chitetu Charvotam (And They Shall Beat Their Swords, in Hebrew)
> Vive le Vent (French version of Jingle Bells -©Francis Blanche)
> Voják (Czech)
> Vòli Pierron (Occitan)

W
> With the Lamp of the Star (Greek - ®Odysseas Elytis - Mikis Theodorakis)

[Song by Martin Ryan in Irish Gaelic]
[short song in Gaelic]
[short song in Bulgarian]

*********************************************************************************

HERE ARE SOME LINKS TO SONGS + TRANSLATIONS ALREADY POSTED ON MUDCAT:

A
> Adeste, Fideles (Latin)
> Ar éirinn Ní n-Eósainn   (For Ireland I'll Not Tell Her Name) -(Irish Gaelic)
> Ar Gyfer Heddiw’r Bore (For the Sake of This Very Morning) (Welsh)
> Au ton coenh (The Spinner Song) - (Occitan)

B
> Bugeilio’r Gwenyth Gwyn (Watching the White Wheat) (English and Welsh)

C
> Cân y Bugail (Song of the Shepherd)
> Cearc agus coileach (A Cock and A Hen) - (Irish Gaelic)
> Chevaliers de la Table Ronde (Knights of the Round Table) -(French)
> Conseils à la mariée (Advice to the Bride) -(French)

D
> De colores (Spanish)
> Die Gedanken sind frei + translation (German)

F
> Fear a Bhata (My Boatman) - (Scottihs Gaelic)

H
> Hanerot Halalu - (Hebrew)

I
> I Am a Little Collier (macaronic, English and Welsh)
> Is Mise Raifteirí - I'm Raftery (Irish Gaelic)

J
> Lieber Joseph, Joseph mein (German)

L
> Les filles des forges (The Girls from the Forges) - (French)
> Le testament (The Will) - (French -© Georges Brassens)
> Lili Marlene -(German & Irish Gaelic)
> Llwyn Onn (The Ash Grove) (Welsh)

M
> Marianne s'en va-t-au moulin (French)

P
> Par derrière chez mon père (Behind My Father's House) - (French)
> Pastres Rintratz Vòstrei Tropèus (Shepherds, Bring Your Flocks In) - (Occitan)
> Personent hodie (Latin)
> Pierre de Grenoble (French)

Q
> Qualo es uno (Ladino) (Ehad Mi Yodea Who Knows One)

R
>
Rozhinkes mit mandlen (Yiddish & English)

S
> Solo le pido a Dios (To God I Only Ask / I Only Ask of God) - (Spanish - © León Gieco)

T
> Teannaibh dlùth is Togaibh Fonn (Scottish Gaelic)
> The Quiet Land of Erin

V
> Viva la quince brigada (Spanish)
> Vòli Pierron (I Want Young Peter) - (Occitan)

Y
> Yn iach i ti Gymru (Welsh)

Z
> Zog Maran (Yiddish)


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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Mudcat singaround songs NOT in English
From: Monique
Date: 23 Jan 21 - 05:22 AM

Le petit bonheur, © 1950, Félix Leclerc, (August 2, 1914 – August 8, 1988) French-Canadian singer-songwriter, poet, writer, actor and Québécois political activist.

LE PETIT BONHEUR (French)

C’était un petit bonheur
Que j'avais ramassé
Il était tout en pleurs
Sur le bord d'un fossé
Quand il m'a vu passer
Il s'est mis à crier:
"Monsieur, ramassez-moi
Chez vous amenez-moi".
Mes frères m'ont oublié, je suis tombé, je suis malade
Si vous n' me cueillez point, je vais mourir, quelle ballade !
Je me ferai petit, tendre et soumis, je vous le jure
Monsieur, je vous en prie, délivrez-moi de ma torture".

J’ai pris le p'tit bonheur
L'ai mis sous mes haillons
J’ai dit : "Faut pas qu'il meure,
Viens-t'en dans ma maison".
Alors le p'tit bonheur
A fait sa guérison
Sur le bord de mon cœur
Y avait une chanson
Mes jours, mes nuits, mes peines, mes deuils, mon mal, tout fut oublié;
Ma vie de désœuvré, j'avais dégoût d' la r'commencer,
Quand il pleuvait dehors ou qu' mes amis m' faisaient des peines,
J' prenais mon p'tit bonheur et j' lui disais: "C'est toi ma reine".

Mon bonheur a fleuri,
Il a fait des bourgeons
C'était le paradis,
Ça s' voyait sur mon front
Or un matin joli
Que j' sifflais ce refrain,
Mon bonheur est parti
Sans me donner la main
J'eus beau le supplier, le cajoler, lui faire des scènes,
Lui montrer le grand trou qu'il me faisait au fond du cœur,
Il s'en allait toujours, la tête haute, sans joie, sans haine,
Comme s'il ne pouvait plus voir le soleil dans ma demeure.

J'ai bien pensé mourir
De chagrin et d'ennui,
J'avais cessé de rire
C'était toujours la nuit
Il me restait l'oubli,
Il me restait l' mépris,
Enfin que j' me suis dit :
"Il me reste la vie".
J'ai repris mon bâton, mes deuils, mes peines et mes guenilles,
Et je bats la semelle dans des pays de malheureux
Aujourd'hui quand je vois une fontaine ou une fille,
Je fais un grand détour ou bien je me ferme les yeux
Je fais un grand détour ou bien je me ferme les yeux.
THE SMALL HAPPINESS

It was a small happiness
I had picked up
It was in tears
On the side of a road
When it saw me passing by
It started shouting:
"Sir, pick me up
Take me home with you
My brothers have forgotten me, I have fallen, I am sick
If you do not pluck me, I will die, what a ballad!
I won't take up much space, gentle and submissive, I promise you
Sir, I'm begging you, free me from this torture."

I took the small happiness
Put in under my rags
I said: "It must not die
Come into my house"
So the little happiness
Got better
At the edge of my heart
There was a song.
My days, my nights, my sorrows, my mourning, my pain - they were all forgotten
My life as an unemployed man, I had no desire to start it all over again
When it rained outside, or when my friends caused me grief
I took my small happiness and told it: "It's you who are my queen"

My happiness blossomed
Buds appeared
It was heaven
You could see it on my face
And yet, on some beautiful morning
As I whistled this tune
My happiness left
Without shaking my hand.
Even though I begged it, coaxed it, made a scene
Showed it the great hole it was making inside my heart
Still it left, its head held high, with neither joy nor hate
As if it couldn't see the sun from inside my home anymore

I thought I would die
Of sorrow and boredom
I had ceased laughing
It was always night
All I was left with was oblivion
All I was left with was contempt
At last I said to myself:
I still have life
Once more I picked up my stick, my mourning, my sorrows and my rags
And now I wander in sad countries
Now, when I see a fountain or a girl,
I either take the long way around or close my eyes
I either take the long way around or close my eyes
Translation taken from Lyricstranslate.com.

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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Mudcat singaround songs NOT in English
From: Monique
Date: 23 Jan 21 - 06:19 AM

"El vito" is a traditional folk song and dance music of Andalusia whose origins can be traced back to the 16th century.(Wiki)
EL VITO (Spanish)

Estribillo
Con el vito vito vito
con el vito vito va.
Con el vito vito vito
con el vito vito va.

Yo no quiero que me miren
que me pongo colorá.
Yo no quiero que me miren
que me pongo colorá.

No me mires a la cara
que me pongo colorá
Yo no quiero que me mires
que me vas a enamorar.

Una malagueña fue a
Sevilla a ver los toros.
Y en la mitad del camino
la cautivaron los moros.

Las solteras son de oro
las casadas son de plata.
Las viuditas son de cobre
y las viejas de hojalata.
THE VITO

Chorus
With the vito, vito, vito,
With the vito, vito, it goes.
With the vito, vito, vito,
With the vito, vito, it goes.

I don't want them to look at me
Because I blush.
I don't want them to look at me
Because I blush.

Don't look straight at my face
Because I blush.
I don't want you to look at me
Because I'm going to fall in love.

A lady from Malaga went to
Seville to see the bulls
And halfway there
The Moors captured her.

Single ladies are gold
Married ladies are silver
The widows are copper
And old ladies are tin.

Mexican baritone Gerardo Garciacano rendition, Korean baritone Kihun Yoon
Here are the lyrics they sing:
Una vieja vale un real
y una muchacha dos cuartos,
y yo, como soy tan pobre
me voy a lo más barato.

Con el vito, vito, vito,
con el vito, vito, va.
No me haga 'usté' cosquillas,
que me pongo 'colorá'.
No me mires¡ ay! chiquilla,
que me voy desmoroná.

Cuatro curas, se la llevan
se la llevan a enterrar.
Cuatro curas se la llevan
con el vito, vito, va.
Se la llevan y es mi suegra.
¡Ay! ¡la risa que me dá!
Con el vito, vito, vito.
¡Ay! que no la veré más!
An old lady is worth one real*
And a young girl two quarters*,
And I, since I'm so poor,
Go for the cheapest.

With the vito, vito, vito,
With vito, vito, it goes.
Don't tickle me,
For I blush.
Don't look at me, ah, girl,
for I'm going to collapse.

Four priests are taking her,
They're taking her to be buried,
Four priests are taking her
With the vito, vito, it goes.
They're taking her and she's my mother-in-law
Ah! how it makes me laugh!
With the vito, vito, vito,
Ah! for I won't see her again!
*Real: old Spanish currency. 1 real = 8.5 "cuartos" (quarters)

Soprano Montserrat Caballé rendition, Soprano Maria Amiradis rendition

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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Mudcat singaround songs NOT in English
From: Mrrzy
Date: 23 Jan 21 - 12:18 PM

I sang some in Hungarian. Shall I add here the ones I recall? I remember Micimackó (Winnie the Pooh' Tiddlypom song), and can probably look back through my notes for the others.

Bonne idée, Monique!


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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Mudcat singaround songs NOT in English
From: Monique
Date: 23 Jan 21 - 12:32 PM

Yes, please do. I'll deal with lining and all once I'm allowed to.


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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Mudcat singaround songs NOT in English
From: Mrrzy
Date: 23 Jan 21 - 01:27 PM

Here goes!
Micimackó is Winnie the Pooh in Hungarian, and this song is sprung from the Tiddley Pom song in The House At Pooh Corner:
The more it snows (Tiddely pom) The more it goes (Tiddely pom) The more it goes (Tiddely pom) On snowing

And nobody knows (Tiddely pom) How cold my toes (Tiddely pom) How cold my toes (Tiddely pom) Are growing.

Imma do my best to translate the Hungarian!
MICIMACKÓ (Hungarian)

Egy napon, mikor Micimackónak semmi dolga nem akadt
eszébe jutott, hogy tenni kéne valami nagyon fontosat
Elment tehát Malackához, hogy meglesse, mit csinál
de Malackánál éppen akkor senkit nem talált

Így hát elindult hazafelé miközben surun hullt a hó
arra gondolt, otthon talán akad egy kis ennivaló
Hogy kimelegedjék ugrándozott, s jó nagyokat lépett
s a hidegre való tekintettel énekelni kezdett

Minél inkább havazik, annál inkább hull a hó
Minél inkább hull a hó, annál inkább havazik
Hull a hó és hózik, Micimackó fázik
Hull a hó és hózik, Micimackó fázik

Ismert erdei körökben az az általános nézet
hogy Micimackó, mint minden medve, szereti a mézet
És ez nem csak afféle szerény vélemény
hanem határozottan állítom, hogy tény, tény, tény

Ezért, mikor hideg van és surun hull a fehér hó
kell, hogy legyen az almáriumban eltéve ennivaló
Így aztán, ha délidoben Micimackó megéhezik
megkóstol egy csupor mézet alaposan, fenékig

Minél inkább havazik, annál inkább hull a hó
Minél inkább hull a hó, annál inkább havazik
Hull a hó és hózik, Micimackó fázik
Hull a hó és hózik, Micimackó fázik

Micimackó a barátom és gyakran elbeszélgetünk
azokról a dolgokról mit mind a ketten ismerünk
És tanultunk egy verset is és most már kívülrol tudom
ha hideg van és hull a hó, én mindig ezt dúdolgatom

Minél inkább havazik, annál inkább hull a hó
Minél inkább hull a hó, annál inkább havazik
Hull a hó és hózik-zik-zik, Micimackó fázik-zik-zik
Hull a hó és hózik-zik-zik, Micimackó fázik-zik.
POOH

One day, Pooh had nothing to do
he remembered that something very important should be done
So he went to Piglet's to find out what he was doing
but when he got there there was nobody

So he headed home as the snow fell
he thought there might be some food at home
To warm up he jumped and stepped on great big snowdrifts
and he began to sing of the cold

The more it snows, the more snow falls
The more snow falls, the more it snows
Falls the snow and snowing, Pooh is freezing
Falls the snow and snowing, Pooh is freezing

The general view in forest circles is
that Pooh, like all bears, loves honey
And it’s not just that kind of humble opinion
but I firmly state that it is fact, fact, fact

Therefore, when it is cold and white snow falls heavily
There should be something edible in the cupboard
So then, when at noon Pooh gets hungry
he will taste a jar of honey thoroughly, to the bottom

The more it snows, the more snow falls
The more snow falls, the more it snows
Falls the snow and snowing, Pooh is freezing
Falls the snow and snowing, Pooh is freezing

Pooh is my friend and we talk often
about the things we both know
And we also learned a poem and now I know it by heart
when it’s cold and the snow is falling, I always hum this:

The more it snows, the more snow falls
The more snow falls, the more it snows
Falls the snow and snowinginging Pooh is freezingzingzing
Falls the snow and snowinginging Pooh is freezingzingzing

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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Mudcat singaround songs NOT in English
From: Monique
Date: 23 Jan 21 - 01:29 PM

An old song from Brittany...
DÉJÁ MAL MARIÉE (French)

Mon père m’a mariée
À un tailleur de pierre,
Mon père m’a mariée
À un tailleur de pierre,
Le lendemain de mes noces
M’envoie-t-à la carrière, la.
Déjà mal mariée,
Déjà mal mariée, gué.

Refrain :
Déjà mal mariée déjà
Déjà mal mariée, gué
Déjà mal mariée, déjà
Déjà mal mariée, gué

Le lendemain de mes noces
M’envoie-t-à la carrière,
Le lendemain de mes noces
M’envoie-t-à la carrière,
Et j’ai trempé mon pain
Dans le jus de la pierre, la
Déjà mal mariée,
Déjà mal mariée, gué.

(Refrain)

Et j'ai trempé mon pain
Dans le jus de la pierre,
Et j'ai trempé mon pain
Dans le jus de la pierre,
Par là vint à passer
Le curé du village, la.
Déjà mal mariée,
Déjà mal mariée, gué.

(Refrain)

Par là vint à passer
Le curé du village,
Par là vint à passer
Le curé du village,
"Bonjour Monsieur le Curé
J’ai trois mots à vous dire, la.
Déjà mal mariée,
Déjà mal mariée, gué.

(Refrain)

Bonjour Monsieur le Curé,
J’ai trois mots à vous dire,
Bonjour Monsieur le Curé,
J’ai trois mots à vous dire :
Hier, vous m’avez fait femme,
Aujourd’hui faites-moi fille, la.
Déjà mal mariée,
Déjà mal mariée, gué.

(Refrain)

Hier, vous m’avez fait femme,
Aujourd'hui faites-moi fille,
Hier, vous m’avez fait femme,
Aujourd'hui faites-moi fille.
De fille, je fais femme,
De femme je n' fais point fille, la."
Déjà mal mariée,
Déjà mal mariée, gué.

(Refrain)
ALREADY BADLY MARRIED

My father married me off
To a stonemason,
My father married me off
To a stonemason,
The day after my wedding,
He sent me to the quarry, la*.
Already badly married,
Already badly married, gay*.

Chorus:
Already badly married, already
Already badly married, gay
Already badly married, already
Already badly married, gay.

The day after my wedding,
He sent me to the quarry,
The day after my wedding,
He sent me to the quarry,
And I dipped my bread
In the stone juice, la.
Déjà mal mariée,
Already badly married,
Already badly married, gay.

(Chorus)

And I dipped my bread
In the stone juice,
And I dipped my bread
In the stone juice,
There happened to pass by
The village priest, la.
Already badly married,
Already badly married, gay.

(Chorus)

There happened to pass by
The village priest,
There happened to pass by
The village priest,
"Good morning, Father
I must tell you a few words, la.
Already badly married,
Already badly married, gay.

(Chorus)

Good morning, Father
I must tell you a few words,
Good morning, Father
I must tell you a few words:
Yesterday, you made a wife of me,
Today, make a girl of me, la.
Already badly married,
Already badly married, gay.

(Chorus)

Yesterday, you made a wife of me,
Today, make a girl of me,
Yesterday, you made a wife of me,
Today, make a girl of me.
Of a girl I make a wife,
Of a wife I make no girl, la."
Already badly married,
Already badly married, gay.

(Chorus)
We have it on Mama Lisa's World with 3 YouTube videos. Here are some more 1, Tri Yann's and the YouTube page about it.

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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Mudcat singaround songs NOT in English
From: Mrrzy
Date: 23 Jan 21 - 01:55 PM

LA NOCE DES OISEAUX (French)

L'alouette et le pinson
Ont voulu se marier
Mais le jour de leurs noces
N'avaient rien de quoi manger.

Refrain
Ma Nanon tout de bon
Oui bientôt nous ferons la noce,
Ma Nanon tout de bon
Oui bientôt nous nous marierons.

Par ici passe un lapin,
Avec une baguette de pain
Mais du pain nous avons trop,
C'est d' la viande qu'il nous faut.

Refrain

Par ici passe un corbeau,
Dans son bec tient un gigot
Mais d' la viande nous avons trop,
C'est du bon vin qu'il nous faut.

Refrain

Par ici passe une souris,
À son cou porte un baril
Mais du vin nous avons trop,
C'est d' la musique qu'il nous faut.

Refrain

Par ici passe un gros rat,
Un violon dessous son bras
Bonjour à la compagnie,
N'y a-t-il pas de chat ici?

Refrain

Entrez musicien, entrez,
Tous les chats sont au grenier
Du grenier descend un chat
Qui emporte le gros rat.

Refrain
THE BIRDS' WEDDING

The lark and the finch
Wanted to get married
But on their wedding day
Had nothing to eat

Cho:
My dear, all good things
Yes we will soon have a wedding
My dear, all good things
Yes we will soon marry each other

A rabbit comes by
With a loaf of bread
Now we have too much bread
We need some meat!

Cho

A crow comes by
With a leg of lamb in its beak
Now we have too much meat
We need some good wine!

Cho

A mouse comes by
With a barrel hanging on its neck
Now we have too much wine
We need some music!

Cho

A big rat comes by
With a violin under its arm
Hello everybody!
Are there no cats here?

Cho

Come in, musician, come in
All the cats are in the attic
Down from the attic comes a cat
And carries off the big rat!

Cho
Jacques Douai rendition (the last two lines are missing).
A different version by Steve Waring alterning Occitan and French on a lovely tune, its French lyrics are here.

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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Mudcat singaround songs NOT in English
From: Monique
Date: 23 Jan 21 - 03:50 PM

A song in Judaeo-Spanish and Turkish
POR LA TU PUERTA YO PASI
(GÜLPEMBE) (Judaeo-Spanish + Turkish)

Por la tu puerta yo pasi
Te vide asentada
La yavedura yo bezi
Komo bezar tu kara

(Chorus to sing twice)
Aman, aman,
gül pembe, gül pembe
Ne bu güzellik sende

No te nigez ke te bezi
Te tengo y abrasado
Komo'l dukado en el sarraf
Te tengo kulaneado

(Chorus)

Ojos pretoz tienes tu
Por los mavis me muero
Kwando veyo los vedroliz
Kavo foya y m'enterro

(Chorus)
I PASSED BY YOUR DOOR
(PINK ROSE)

I passed by your door.
I found you seated.
I kissed the lock
As if it were your face.

(Chorus)
Oh my...my,
Pink rose, pink rose
How beautiful you are.

Don't deny that I've kissed you,
Or even that I've embraced you.
I hold you as close to me
As the banker holds his coin.

(Chorus)

Your eyes are black,
For blue ones, I die.
When I see green ones,
I bury myself totally.

(Chorus)
Lyrics and edited translation from Broadside Electric
Baris Ayhan rendition   
Helen Roche & Sophie Liebregts rendition

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Subject: RE: Mudcat singaround Irish & Scottish Gaelic
From: Felipa
Date: 23 Jan 21 - 05:15 PM

Did someone actually sing A Stór mo Chroí in Irish. There is an Irish translation of the song, but the original was written in English with just the phrase "A Stór mo Chroí" (yo, treasure of my heart) in English.

The Quiet Land of Erin is a translation in the other direction, from Irish to English. Irish Gaelic language words are already posted on Mudcat https://mudcat.org/thread.cfm?threadid=10469#2967732



LEANABH AN ÀIGH (Scottish Gaelic)

Leanabh an àigh leanabh bh'aig Màiri
rugadh 'san stàbull Rìgh nam Dùl,
thàinig do'n fhàsach dh'fhulang nar n-àite,
son' iad an àireamh bhitheas dha dlùth.

Ged a bhios leanaban aig rìghrean na talmhainn
an greadhnachas àrd is anabarr mùirn
's gearr gus am falabh iad 's fàsaidh iad anfhann
an àilleachd 's an dealbh a' searg 'san ùir.

Cha b'ionnan an t-uan thàinig gar fuasgladh
iriseal stuama ghluais e'n tùs.
E naomh gun truailleachd cruithear an t-sluaighe
dh'èirich e suas le buaidh o'n ùir.

Leanabh an àigh mar dh'aithris na fàidhean
's na h-aingealan àrd b'e miann an sùl,
's e 's airidh air gràdh 's ar n'urram thoirt dha.
Sona an àireamh bhitheas dha dlùth.
translation by Tom Thomson

THE CHILD OF JOY

The child of joy, the child who was Mary's,
born in the stable, Lord of the Universe,
came to the wilderness to suffer in place of us.
happy are those who are close to him.

Although kings in the world have children
in high pomp and with much joy
they are soon gone and they grow weak
their beauty and their figure withering in the grave(1).

Nothing is equal to the lamb who came to free us,
humble and modest when he first moved,
saintly, with no impurity, the creator of humanity
he rose up with victory from the grave(2).

The child of joy as told by the prophets
and the archangels, he was the apple of their eye(3),
it is he who deserves to be loved and honoured(4)
happy are those who are close to him.
1.literally; in the soil
2.literally; from the soil
3.or their heart's desire; literally: their eyes' wish
4.literally: to be given love and our honour. I think the original poem had "air urram" where AC [Arthur Cormack]sings "ar n'urram", so that "our" was not in it.
Lyricstranslate.com
Arthur Cormack rendition - Fiona Mackenzie rendition

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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Mudcat singaround songs NOT in English
From: Felipa
Date: 23 Jan 21 - 05:21 PM

Martin Ryan sang Molly na gCuach Ní Chuilleanáin and he posted the lyrics on Mudcat back in 2011. There is a translation posted on that thread as well.

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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Mudcat singaround songs NOT in English
From: Monique
Date: 24 Jan 21 - 03:09 AM

"Romance de la luna, luna" is a poem written by Federico García Lorca (1898-1936) in 1928. Paco Ibañez (1934- ) put some of his poems in music, editing them if need be to match the tune.
ROMANCE DE LA LUNA, LUNA (Spanish)
(as sung by Paco Ibañez)

La luna vino a la fragua
con su polisón de nardos.
El niño la mira, mira.
El niño la está mirando.
En el aire conmovido
mueve la luna sus brazos
y enseña, lúbrica y pura,
sus senos de duro estaño.

Huye luna, luna, luna.
Si vinieran los gitanos,
harían con tu corazón
collares y anillos blancos.

Niño, déjame que baile.
cuando vengan los gitanos,
te encontrarán sobre el yunque
con los ojillos cerrados.
El jinete se acercaba
tocando el tambor del llano.
Dentro de la fragua el niño,
tiene los ojos cerrados.

Huye luna, luna, luna,
que ya siento sus caballos.
Niño, déjame, no pises
mi blancor almidonado.

Cómo canta la zumaya,
ay cómo canta en el árbol!
Por el cielo va la luna
con un niño de la mano.
Dentro de la fragua lloran,
dando gritos, los gitanos.
El aire la vela, vela.
El aire la está velando.

Huye luna, luna, luna,
que ya siento sus caballos.
Niño, déjame, no pises
mi blancor almidonado.
Niño, déjame, no pises
mi blancor almidonado.
ROMANCE OF THE MOON, MOON


The moon came to the forge
With her bustle of nards,
The boy looks at her, look,
The boy is looking at her.
In the stirring air
The moon moves her arms
And shows, smooth and pure,
Her breasts of hard tin.

Run away moon, moon, moon.
If the gypsies came,
With your heart they would make
White necklaces and rings.

Child, let me dance.
When the gypsies come,
They will find you on the anvil
With your eyes closed.
The horseman was approaching
Playing the drum of the plains.
Within the forge, the boy
Has his eyes closed.

Run away moon, moon, moon,
I hear their horses now.
Child, let go, don't step
On my starched whiteness.

How the scops owl sings,
Oh, how it sings in the tree!
In the sky goes the moon
With a boy by the hand.
Inside the forge they cry,
Screaming, the gypsies.
The air veils it, look at it.
The air is veiling it.

Run away moon, moon, moon,
I hear their horses now.
Child, let go, don't step
on my starched whiteness.
Child, let go, don't step
on my starched whiteness.
Translation taken from Lyricstranslate.com

Here is the original poem by García Lorca

La luna vino a la fragua
con su polisón de nardos.
El niño la mira mira.
El niño la está mirando.

En el aire conmovido
mueve la luna sus brazos
y enseña, lúbrica y pura,
sus senos de duro estaño.

Huye luna, luna, luna.
Si vinieran los gitanos,
harían con tu corazón
collares y anillos blancos.

Niño déjame que baile.
Cuando vengan los gitanos,
te encontrarán sobre el yunque
con los ojillos cerrados.

Huye luna, luna, luna,
que ya siento sus caballos.
Niño déjame, no pises,
mi blancor almidonado.

El jinete se acercaba
tocando el tambor del llano.
Dentro de la fragua el niño,
tiene los ojos cerrados.

Por el olivar venían,
bronce y sueño, los gitanos.
Las cabezas levantadas
y los ojos entornados.

¡Cómo canta la zumaya,
ay como canta en el árbol!
Por el cielo va la luna
con el niño de la mano.

Dentro de la fragua lloran,
dando gritos, los gitanos.
El aire la vela, vela.
el aire la está velando.

Here are some English translations. I'd translate the missing verse "Por el olivar...ojos entornados" as...
Through the olive grove
The gypsies were coming,
Bronze and dreaming,
Heads lifted and eyes half-closed.

Paco Ibañez recording (1964)

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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Mudcat singaround songs NOT in English
From: Monique
Date: 24 Jan 21 - 03:33 AM

REW DI RANNO (Welsh)

Diofal yw’r aderyn,
ni hau, ni fed un gronyn,
heb un gofal yn y byd,
mae’n canu hyd y flwyddyn.

Cytgan:
Dymili dymili dymili dymili,
dymili dymili dymili dymili,
rew di rew di ranno.
Heb un gofal yn y byd,
mae'n canu hyd y flwyddyn.

Fe eistedd ar y gangen,
gan edrych ar ei aden,
heb un geiniog yn ei god,
yn llywio a bod yn llawen.

(Cytgan:)

Fe fwyta'i swper heno,
ni wyr yn lle mae'i ginio,
dyna'r modd y mae yn byw,
a gad o i Dduw arlwyo.

(Cytgan:)
CAREFREE IS THE BIRD

Carefree is the bird,
doesn’t sow, doesn’t reap one grain,
without a care in the world,
singing through the year.

Chorus:
Dimilee dimilee dimilee dimilee,
dimilee dimilee dimilee dimilee,
reh-w dee reh-w dee ran-o.
Without a care in the world,
singing through the year.

Sitting on the branch,
looking at it’s wing,
without a penny in it’s pouch,
ruling [over us?] and being merry.

(Chorus:)

It eats it’s supper tonight,
not knowing where it’s lunch will come from,
that’s the way it’s life is,
it leaves it to God to provide.

(Chorus)
Translation taken from Hwiangerddi-Welsh Nursery Rhymes
You can hear it sung here.

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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Mudcat singaround songs NOT in English
From: Monique
Date: 24 Jan 21 - 04:20 PM

Folk song from the Abruzzo region of Italy in local dialect about how sad people feel when they part as they leave their places to go to pick olives in the Fall season.
CADE L'ULIVA (Italian dialect)
(NEBBI' A LA VALLE)

Nebbi' a la valle nebbi' a la muntagne,
ne le campagne nun ce sta nesciune.
Addije, addije amore,
casch'e se coije...la live
casch'a l'albere li foije.

Casche la live e casche la genestre,
casche la live e li frunne genestre.
Addije, addije amore,
casch'e se coije...la live
casch'a l'albere li foije.
THE OLIVES FALL
(FOG IN THE VALLEY)

Fog in the valley, fog in the mountain,
In the countryside there's nobody,
Goodbye, goodbye love,
The olives fall and are picked,
The leaves fall from the trees.

The olives fall and so do the brooms (lit. and the broom falls)
The olives fall and so do the brooms leaves (lit. "and the broom leaves"),
Goodbye, goodbye love,
The olives fall and are picked,
The leaves fall from the trees.
Rendition by Alizée Elefante on 06/27/2005, another rendition, another one.

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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Mudcat singaround songs NOT in English
From: Mrrzy
Date: 25 Jan 21 - 12:16 PM

It occurs to me, I put translations into the chat when I sang furrin songs on the Singaround. Maybe I could get those trancripts?


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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Mudcat singaround songs NOT in English
From: Monique
Date: 26 Jan 21 - 01:57 PM

The translation has been taken from David Yendley's blog about Brassens. There you'll find a lot of notes about the song and many other lyrics with an English translation and many notes. I highly recommend it to anybody interested in Brassens's work.
LE FANTÔME (French)

C'était tremblant, c'était troublant,
C'était vêtu d'un drap tout blanc,
Ça présentait tous les symptômes,
Tous les dehors de la vision,
Les faux airs de l'apparition,
En un mot, c'était un fantôme !

À sa manière d'avancer,
À sa façon de balancer
Des hanches quelque peu convexes,
Je compris que j'avais affaire
À quelqu'un du genr' que j'préfère
À un fantôme du beau sexe.

"Je suis un p'tit Poucet perdu,
Me dit-ell', d'un' voix morfondue,
Un pauvre fantôme en déroute.
Plus de trace des feux follets,
Plus de trace des osselets
Dont j'avais jalonné ma route !

"Des poèt's sans inspiration
Auront pris -quelle aberration -
Mes feux follets pour des étoiles.
De pauvres chiens de commissaire
Auront croqué -quelle misère ! -
Mes oss'lets bien garnis de moelle.

"À l'heure où le coq chantera,
J’aurai bonn' mine avec mon drap
Plein de faux plis et de coutures !
Et dans ce siècle profane où
Les gens ne croient plus guère à nous,
On va crier à l'imposture. "

Moi, qu'un chat perdu fait pleurer,
Pensez si j'eus le cœur serré
Devant l'embarras du fantôme.
"Venez, dis-je en prenant sa main,
Que je vous montre le chemin,
Que je vous reconduise at home."

L'histoire finirait ici
Mais la brise, et je l'en r'mercie,
Troussa le drap de ma cavalière...
Dame, il manquait quelques oss'lets,
Mais le reste, loin d'être laid,
Était d'un' grâce singulière.

Mon Cupidon, qui avait la
Flèche facile en ce temps-là,
Fit mouche et, le feu sur les tempes,
Je conviai, sournoisement,
La belle à venir un moment
Voir mes icônes, mes estampes...

"Mon cher, dit-elle, vous êtes fou !
J'ai deux mille ans de plus que vous...
— Le temps, madam', que nous importe !"
Mettant le fantôm' sous mon bras,
Bien enveloppé dans son drap,
Vers mes pénates je l'emporte !

Eh bien, messieurs, qu'on se le dise :
Ces belles dames de jadis
Sont de satanées polissonnes,
Plus expertes dans le déduit
Que certain's dames d'aujourd'hui,
Et je ne veux nommer personne !

Au p'tit jour on m'a réveillé,
On secouait mon oreiller
Avec un' fougu' plein' de promesses.
Mais, foin des délic's de Capoue !
C'était mon père criant : "Debout !
Vains dieux, tu vas manquer la messe !"

Mais, foin des délic's de Capoue !
C'était mon père criant : "Debout !
Vains dieux, tu vas manquer la messe !"
THE GHOST

It was trembling, it was troubling,
It was dressed in sheet of pure white,
It presented all the symptoms,
All the aura of a vision,
The false airs of an apparition,
In short, it was indeed a ghost!

By the way it moved towards me,
By the manner in which it swayed
Its hips a wee bit rounded
I understood I was dealing
With someone o’ the gender I prefer
With a ghost of the fair sex.   

"I'm a P'tit Poucet castaway,
She tells me in crestfallen tones,
A poor ghost totally vanquished."
No trace left o’ will-o’-the-wisps
No trace left of the tiny bones
With which I had marked out my route!   

"Poets lacking inspiration
Seem to have mistaken- how wrong –
My will ‘f the wisps for clustered stars.
Some poor police dogs on the chase
Seem to have gobbled – how awful! –
My bones well furnished with marrow.   

"By the time the first cock will crow,
I will look a sight with my drape
All full of wrong creases and torn!"
And these profane times we live in
When folk scarce believe in us still,
They will shout that I'm just a fake.”

"I, whom a lost cat moves to tears
Think how my heart was afflicted
Faced with the ghost’s predicament.
"Come along, I said taking her hand,
Allow me to show you the way
Let me take you back to your home."   

The story would finish right here
But the breeze, and my thanks for it,
Parted the drape of my companion...
Damn, a few small bones were missing,
But the rest, far from be’ng ugly,
Was of exceptional grace.   

My Cupid, who was very slick
With his arrows in those days,
Hit the mark and my temples fired,
I invited, insidiously,
The beauty to come a moment
To see my icons, n’ engravings...

"My dear”, she said “you're crazy!
I’m two thousand years more than you...”
“- Time, madam', what does that matter!"
Putting the ghost under my arm,
Well wrapped up in her drapery
To my family home I took her!   

Well, gentlemen, let it be told:
These beautiful ladies of old
Are the hell of sexy devils,
More expert in art of loveplay
Than certain ladies of today,
And I’m not naming anyone!

At first light I was awoken,
By some-one shaking my pillow
With an ardour full of promise.
But, pon the hay of Capua!
T’was my father shouting: "Get up!
"Yee gods, you're going to miss mass!"   

But, pon the hay of Capua!
T’was my father shouting: "Get up!
"Yee gods, you will miss morning mass!"   
Brassens recording, Brassens live

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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Mudcat singaround songs NOT in English
From: Monique
Date: 26 Jan 21 - 02:30 PM

Anonymous Occitan song from the XIIth century
A L'ENTRADA DEL TEMPS CLAR (Occitan)

A l'entrada del temps clar, eya
Per jòia recomençar, eya
E per jelós irritar, eya
Vòl la regina mostrar
Qu'el' es si amorosa
A la vi', a la via, jelós,
Laissatz nos, laissatz nos
Balar entre nos, entre nos.

El' a fait pertot mandar, eya
Non sia jusqu'à la mar, eya
Piucela ni bachalar, eya
Que tuit non vengan dançar
En la dansa joiosa.
A la vi', a la via, jelós,
Laissatz nos, laissatz nos
Balar entre nos, entre nos.

Lo reis i ven d'autra part, eya
Per la dança destorbar, eya
Que el es en cremetar, eya
Que òm no li vòlh emblar
La regin' aurilhosa.
A la vi', a la via, jelós,
Laissatz nos, laissatz nos
Balar entre nos, entre nos.

Mais per nïent lo vòl far, eya
Qu'ela n'a sonh de vielhart, eya
Mais d'un leugièr bachalar, eya
Qui ben sapcha solaçar
La dòmna saborosa.
A la vi', a la via, jelós,
Laissatz nos, laissatz nos
Balar entre nos, entre nos.

Qui donc la vezés dançar, eya
E son gent còrs deportar, eya
Ben pògra dir de vertat, eya
Qu'el mont non aja sa par
La regina joiosa.
A la vi', a la via, jelós,
Laissatz nos, laissatz nos
Balar entre nos, entre nos.
AT THE COMING OF BRIGHT WEATHER

At the coming of bright weather, eya,
To bring joy again, eya,
And to irritate the jealous, eya,
The Queen wishes to show
How amorous she is.
Hit the road, hit the road, jealous ones!
Let us dance
Among ourselves.

She has had it proclaimed everywhere, eya,
That between here and the sea, eya,
There should be no maiden nor young knight, eya,
Who does not come to dance
In the joyous dance.
Hit the road, hit the road, jealous ones!
Let us dance
Among ourselves.

The king arrives from elsewhere, eya,
To put a stop to the dance, eya,
Because he is afraid, eya,
That another man will want to steal
The Queen of April.
Hit the road, hit the road, jealous ones!
Let us dance
Among ourselves.

But by no means will she let him do so, eya,
Since she has no care for an old man, eya,
But rather for a lusty young knight, eya,
Who knows well how to solace
The zesty lady.
Hit the road, hit the road, jealous ones!
Let us dance
Among ourselves.

Then whoever sees her dancing, eya,
And disporting her fine body, eya,
Can well say in truth, eya,
That the world holds not the equal
Of the joyous Queen.
Hit the road, hit the road, jealous ones!
Let us dance
Among ourselves.
Wikipedia: original lyrics + English translation
Mama Lisa's World: original lyrics + English translation + link to the original document from the BNF (France National Library)
Clemencic Consort recording
Live rendition & dance
Mont-Jòia recording : original lyrics, French and English subtitles.

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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Mudcat singaround songs NOT in English
From: Monique
Date: 28 Jan 21 - 07:36 AM

The song "Andaluces de Jaén" (Andalusians from Jaén) is based on the poem "Aceituneros" (Olive growers) (1937) by Miguel Hernández (1910-1942). It's been set into music in 1967 by Paco Ibañez (1934- ).
Live rendition, France 1996, another one, Palau de la música, Barcelona 2002
ANDALUCES DE JAÉN (Spanish)

Andaluces de Jaén
aceituneros altivos
decidme en la alma, ¿quién,
quién levantó los olivos ?
Andaluces de Jaén,
andaluces de Jaén.

No los levantó la nada,
ni el dinero, ni el señor,
sino la tierra callada
el trabajo y el sudor.

Unidos al agua pura
y a los planetas unidos
los tres dieron hermosura
de los troncos retorcidos.
Andaluces de Jaén.

Andaluces de Jaén
aceituneros altivos
decidme en el alma, ¿quién,
quién levantó los olivos ?
Andaluces de Jaén,
andaluces de Jaén.

Cuántos siglos de aceituna,
los pies y las manos presos,
sol a sol y luna a luna,
pesan sobre vuestros huesos.

Jaén ,levántate brava,
sobre tus piedras lunares,
no vayas a ser esclava
con todos tus olivares.
Andaluces de Jaén.

Andaluces de Jaén
aceituneros altivos,
decidme en el alma, ¿quién,
quién levantó los olivos ?
Andaluces de Jaén,
andaluces de Jaén.
ANDALUSIANS FROM JAÉN

Andalusians from Jaén,
Proud olive growers,
Tell me in good conscience who,
Who grew the olive trees?
Andalusians from Jaén,
Andalusians from Jaén.

Neither the Nothingness grow them
Nor money, nor the lord,
But the silent ground,
Work and sweat.

Together with pure water
And together with the planets:
All three gave beauty
To the twisted trunks,
Andalusians from Jaén.

Andalusians from Jaén,
Proud olive growers,
Tell me in good conscience who,
Who grew the olive trees?
Andalusians from Jaén,
Andalusians from Jaén.

How many centuries of olives,
With captive feet and hands,
All day long, sun and moon,
Weigh on your bones!

Jaén, stand up, brave,
On your moon stones,
Don't become a slave
With all your olive groves.
Andalusians from Jaén.

Andalusians from Jaén,
Proud olive growers,
Tell me in good conscience who,
Who grew the olive trees?
Andalusians from Jaén,
Andalusians from Jaén.
The translation has been borrowed from Lyricstranslate.com

Below is the original poem by Miguel Hernández. It's also been set into music by the Andalusian band Jarcha in 1975. It's also been set into music by Santiago José Báez Cervantes and has been the anthem of the Jaén province since 2012, here sung by Carmen Linares.
The translation below is a mix of the version from Lyricstranslate and my own.
ACEITUNEROS

Andaluces de Jaén,
aceituneros altivos,
decidme en el alma: ¿quién,
quién levantó los olivos?

No los levantó la nada,
ni el dinero, ni el señor,
sino la tierra callada,
el trabajo y el sudor.

Unidos al agua pura
y a los planetas unidos,
los tres dieron la hermosura
de los troncos retorcidos.

Levántate, olivo cano,
dijeron al pie del viento.
Y el olivo alzó una mano
poderosa de cimiento.

Andaluces de Jaén,
aceituneros altivos,
decidme en el alma: ¿quién
amamantó los olivos?

Vuestra sangre, vuestra vida,
no la del explotador
que se enriqueció en la herida
generosa del sudor.

No la del terrateniente
que os sepultó en la pobreza,
que os pisoteó la frente,
que os redujo la cabeza.

Árboles que vuestro afán
consagró al centro del día
eran principio de un pan
que solo el otro comía.

¡Cuántos siglos de aceituna,
los pies y las manos presos,
sol a sol y luna a luna,
pesan sobre vuestros huesos!

Andaluces de Jaén,
aceituneros altivos,
pregunta mi alma: ¿de quién,
de quién son estos olivos?

Jaén, levántate brava
sobre tus piedras lunares,
no vayas a ser esclava
con todos tus olivares.

Dentro de la claridad
del aceite y sus aromas,
indican tu libertad
la libertad de tus lomas.
OLIVE GROWERS

Andalusians from Jaén,
Proud olive growers,
Tell me in good conscience who,
Who grew the olive trees?

Neither the Nothingness grow them
Nor money, nor the lord,
But the silent ground,
Work and sweat.

Together with pure water
And together with the planets:
All three gave beauty
To the twisted trunks,

Get up, silver-haired olive tree,
They said at the foot of the wind.
And the olive tree raised
A powerful hand as its foundation

Andalusians from Jaén,
Proud olive growers,
Tell me in good conscience, who,
Who fed* the olive trees?

Your blood, your life,
Not the exploiter's,
Who got rich from the generous
Wound of sweat.

Not that of the landlord
Who buried you in poverty,
Who trampled your forehead,
Who lessened your head**.

Trees that your hard work
Consecrated at the center of the day,
They were the beginning of a bread
That only the other one ate.

How many centuries of olives,
With captive feet and hands,
From sunrise to sunset and moonrise to moonset,
Weigh on your bones!

Andalusians from Jaén,
Proud olive growers,
My soul asks, who,
Who do these olive trees belong to?

Jaén, stand up, brave,
On your moon stones,
Don't become a slave
With all your olive groves.
Andalusians from Jaén.

Within the clarity
Of the oil and its aromas,
They indicate your freedom,
The freedom of your hills.
*amamantar literally means to breast-feed, to suckle
**reduced/lessened your head = kept you in ignorance

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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Mudcat singaround songs NOT in English
From: Mrrzy
Date: 29 Jan 21 - 03:36 PM

Vive le Vent, to the tune of Jingle Bells, but a different wintertime story. This is the version I sang on the Singaround.
VIVE LE VENT (French)

Sur un très long chemin
Couvert de neige blanche
Un vieux monsieur s'avance
Sa canne dans la main
Et tout là-haut le vent
Qui siffle dans les branches
Lui souffle la romance
Qu'il chantait petit enfant

Cho:
Oh, vive le vent, vive le vent
Vive le vent d'hiver
Qui s'en va, sifflant, soufflant
Dans les grand sapins verts
Oh, vive le temps, vive le temps
Vive le temps d'hiver!
Boule de neige et jour de l'an
Et bonne année grand-mère

Pas que chez les Bretons
Y'a mille de bougies
Et chantent vers le ciel les cloches de la nuit
Et dans chaque maison
Il flotte un air de fête
Partout la table est prête
Et l'on entend la même chanson

Cho
LONG LIVE WIND

On a very long road
All covered in white snow
And old man comes along
With his cane in his hand
And way up high the wind
A-whistling through the trees
Whispers 'bout the romance
That he sang of as a child

Cho:
Oh, long live wind, long live wind,
Long live winter wind
Which blows whistling, whispering,
All through the great green pines
Oh, long live weather, long live weather,
Long live winter weather
Snowball, New Year's Day
And happy new year to Grandma!

Not just in Brittany
There's a thousand and one candles
And ringing to the sky are all of the night's bells
In each and every house
A festive atmosphere
Everywhere the table's set
and this same song you'll hear

Cho

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

I sang Hanerot Halalu at the singaround during Hanukah, and posted the lyrics to http://search.mudcat.org/thread.cfm?threadid=41943
(but as I recall there's something tricky about making clickies to mudcat from within mudcat so I don't know whether that will work).

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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Mudcat singaround songs NOT in English
From: Monique
Date: 30 Jan 21 - 02:41 AM

Thanks Gerry, it does work.
Here are the lyrics in Hebrew (fixed after Gerry pointed the previous ones I posted were wrong):
הַנֵּרוֹת הַלָּלוּ
אָֽנוּ מַדְלִיקִין

You'll find the lyrics in Hebrew + some more with German translations here and with English translations there.

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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Mudcat singaround songs NOT in English
From: Monique
Date: 30 Jan 21 - 06:10 AM

Here is a French sea shanty with my own translation. Lisa has fixed some stuff in my translation on our Mama Lisa's World page. You'll also find some more notes there.
CHANTONS POUR PASSER LE TEMPS (French)

1. Chantons pour passer le temps
Les amours joyeux d’une belle fille
Chantons pour passer le temps
Les amours joyeux d’une fille de quinze ans.
Aussitôt qu’elle fut promise
Aussitôt elle changea de mise
Elle prit l'habit de matelot
Et vint s'embarquer à bord du navire
Elle prit l'habit de matelot
Et vint s'embarquer à bord du vaisseau.

2. Et le capitaine, enchanté (1)
D'avoir à son bord un si beau jeune homme
Lui dit : "Mon joli matelot,
Je t'engagerai à bord d' mon vaisseau.
Tes beaux yeux, ton joli visage,
Ta tournure et ton joli corsage
Me font toujours me rappeler
Z-à une beauté qui m'était promise.
Me font toujours me rappeler
Z-à une beauté que j'ai tant aimée.

3. – Monsieur, vous vous moquez de moi
Vous me badinez, vous me faites rire.
Je n'ai ni frères ni parents
Et j' suis embarquée au port de Lorient.
Je suis née z-à La Martinique
Et même je suis enfant unique
Et c'est un navire hollandais
Qui m’a débarquée au port de Boulogne,
Et c'est un navire hollandais
Qui m'a débarquée au port de Calais."

4. Ils ont ainsi vécu sept ans
Sur le même bateau sans se reconnaître.
Ils ont ainsi vécu sept ans
Se sont reconnus au débarquement.
"Puisqu'enfin l'amour nous rassemble
Nous allons nous marier ensemble.
L'argent que nous avons gagné
Il nous servira pour notre ménage.
L'argent que nous avons gagné
Il nous servira pour nous marier."

5. C'ti là qu'a fait cette chanson
C'est l' nommé Camus, gabier de misaine.
C'ti là qu'a fait cette chanson
C’est l' nommé Camus, gabier d’artimon.
Oh matelot, faut carguer la grand-voile,
Au cabestan, faudra qu' tout l' monde y soye.
Et vire, vire, vire donc,
Sans ça, t'auras rien dedans ta gamelle.
Et vire, vire, vire donc,
Sans ça, t'auras rien dedans ton bidon.
LET'S SING TO PASS THE TIME

1. Let's sing to pass the time
The merry love story of a fine girl,
Let's sing to pass the time
The merry love story of a fifteen-year-old girl.
As soon as she was betrothed,
She changed her appearance,
She dressed as a sailor
And went to embark onboard of the ship,
She dressed as a sailor
And went to embark onboard of the vessel.

2. And the captain, delighted
To have such a young man onboard
Told him, "My fine seaman,
I will enlist you onboard of my vessel.
Your beautiful eyes, your pretty face,
Your elegance and your pretty chest
Always remind me
Of a beauty betrothed to me,
Always remind me
Of a beauty that I loved so much."

3. "Sir, you're making fun of me,
You're teasing me, you're making me laugh,
I have neither brothers nor parents
And I embarked at Lorient Harbor.
I was born in Martinique
And what more, I'm an only child
And it's a Dutch ship
That disembarked me at Boulogne Harbor,
And it's a Dutch ship
That disembarked me at Calais Harbor."

4. They lived thus for seven years
On the same boat, without recognizing each other,
They lived thus for seven years,
They recognized each other when they disembarked.
"Since, at last, love brings us together,
We will get married.
The money we earned
Will serve in our household,
The money we earned
Will serve to get married."

5. The one who made this song.
Is the man named Camus, the foremast bosun,
The one who made this song
Is the man named Camus, the mizzenmast bosun.
Hey, seaman, we must brail the mainsail,
Everybody must be about the capstan.
And heave, heave, do heave,
Or you'll have nothing in your dish,
And heave, heave, do heave,
Or you'll have nothing in your can.

(1)Alternate verse:
Le capitaine du bâtiment
Était enchanté d'un si beau jeune homme
Le capitaine du bâtiment
Le fit appeler sur l' gaillard d'avant.
"Beau matelot, ton joli visage,
Tes cheveux et ton joli corsage
Me font toujours me souvenant
D'une jeun' beauté que j'ai tant aimée
Me font toujours me souvenant
D'une jeun' beauté du port de Lorient".
The captain of the ship
Was delighted by such a fine young man,
The captain of the ship
Had him called on the forecastle.
"Handsome seaman, your pretty face,
Your hair and your pretty chest
Always keeps reminding me
Of a young beauty I loved so much,
Always keeps reminding me
Of a young beauty from Lorient Harbor."

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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Mudcat singaround songs NOT in English
From: Monique
Date: 30 Jan 21 - 09:17 AM

A carol from the Languedoc part of Occitania (Southern part of France)
NADAL TINDAIRE (Occitan)

Avèm ausit las aubadas
Que se'n venon de sonar
Sus de trompetas dauradas
Dison qu'un Daufin serà
L’una fa :"Tarara tararèra
Lintampon ladèri tampon"
E l’autra li fa lo respon :
"Tarara tararèra
Lintampon ladèri tampon"
Novèl vengut pichon popon.

Quand dintrarem dins l’estable
Li tirarem lo capèl
Li direm: "Enfant aimable,
Venèm vos cantar Noël"
Un farà "Tarara tararèra
Lintampon ladèri tampon"
E l’autre farà lo respon :
"Tarara tararèra
Lintampon ladèri tampon"
Novèl vengut pichon popon.

Sonatz pifres e trompetas
Timbalas e caramèls,
O vos claras campanetas
Ambe lo còr dels angèls
Digatz-li "Tara tararèra
Lintampon ladèri tampon"
E cadun farà lo respon :
"Tarara tararèra
Lintampon ladèri tampon"
Novèl vengut pichon popon.
JINGLING CHRISTMAS

We’ve heard the morning tunes
That have just been played
On golden trumpets
They say it’ll be a Daufin (King’s son)
One goes : "Tarara tararèra
Lintampon ladèri tampon"
The other answers back:
"Tarara tararèra
Lintampon ladèri tampon"
Welcome, little baby.

When we enter the cowshed
We’ll take our hat off for him
We’ll say to him "Lovely child,
We’ve come to sing to you for Christmas"
One will go "Tarara tararèra
Lintampon ladèri tampon"
The other will answer back:
"Tarara tararèra
Lintampon ladèri tampon"
Welcome, little baby.

Play, fifes and trumpets
Timpani and pipes
Or you, clear little bells
Along with the angels choir
Tell him "Tarara tararèra
Lintampon ladèri tampon"
And everyone will answer back:
"Tarara tararèra
Lintampon ladèri tampon"
Welcome, little baby.
Harmonized version by "Lyre & Elles"

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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Mudcat singaround songs NOT in English
From: Monique
Date: 30 Jan 21 - 09:29 AM

"Canción del jinete" is a poem written by Federico García Lorca (1898-1936) set into music by Paco Ibañez (1934- )
CANCIÓN DEL JINETE (Spanish)

En la luna negra de los bandoleros,
cantan las espuelas.
En la luna negra de los bandoleros,
cantan las espuelas.
Ay, caballito negro,
¿Dónde llevas tu jinete muerto?
¿Dónde llevas tu jinete muerto?

Las duras espuelas del bandido inmóvil
que perdió las riendas.
Las duras espuelas del bandido inmóvil
que perdió las riendas.
Ay, caballito frío,
¡Qué perfume de flor de cuchillo!
¡Qué perfume de flor de cuchillo!

En la luna negra sangraba el costado
de Sierra Morena.
En la luna negra sangraba el costado
de Sierra Morena.
Ay, caballito negro,
¿Dónde llevas tu jinete muerto?
¿Dónde llevas tu jinete muerto?

En la luna negra ¡un grito!, y el cuerno
largo de la hoguera.
En la luna negra ¡un grito!, y el cuerno
largo de la hoguera.
Ay, caballito frío,
¡Qué perfume de flor de cuchillo!
¡Qué perfume de flor de cuchillo!
THE HORSEMAN'S SONG

In the black moon, home to the horseback bandits
spurs ring a song.
In the black moon, home to the horseback bandits
spurs ring a song:
"Woah black pony!
Whither with your dead rider are you going?
Whither with your dead rider are you going?"

These are the strong spurs of a stirless bandit
whose reins are down.
These are the strong spurs of a stirless bandit
whose reins are down:
"Woah cold pony.
What a fragrance in the dagger's flower!
What a fragrance in the dagger's flower!"

In the black moon the side of Sierra Morena
bled from a wound.
In the black moon the side of Sierra Morena
bled from a wound.
"Woah black pony!
Whither with your dead rider are you going?
Whither with your dead rider are you going?"

In the black moon, a cry! And then the long
deep bonfire horn.
In the black moon, a cry! And then the long
deep bonfire horn.
"Woah cold pony.
What a fragrance in the dagger's flower!
What a fragrance in the dagger's flower!"
The translation has been borrowed from Lyricstranslate.com.
Two Paco Ibañez's renditions 44 years apart - TV live rendition introduced by Salvador Dalí - Live rendition, 2002, Palau de la música, Barcelona.

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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Mudcat singaround songs NOT in English
From: Monique
Date: 31 Jan 21 - 03:25 AM

Sung by Diplocase on 2020/08/03.
DAME LOMBARDE (French)

Allons au bois, Dame Lombarde, allons au bois, (bis)
Nous trouverons le serpent verde, nous le tuerons. (bis)

Dans une pinte de vin rouge, nous le mettrons, (bis)
Quand ton mari viendra de chasse, grand soif aura. (bis)

"Tire du vin, Dame Lombarde, tire du vin". (bis)
"Et, par ma foi, mon amant Pierre, n'y a de tiré." (bis)

L'enfant du bré*, jamais ne parle, a bien parlé, (bis)
"Ne buvez pas de ça, mon père, vous en mourrez." (bis)

"Buvez-en vous, Dame Lombarde, buvez-en vous." (bis)
"Et, par la foi, mon amant Pierre, n'ai point de soif." (bis)

Elle n'a pas bu demi-verre, s'est renversée, (bis)
Elle n'a pas bu le plein verre, a trépassé. (bis)
LADY LOMBARD

Let's go to the woods, Lady Lombard, let's go to the woods, (x2)
We will find the green snake, we will kill it. (x2)

In a pint of red wine we'll put it, (x2)
When your husband comes from hunting, he'll be very thirsty. (x2)

"Draw wine, Lady Lombard, draw wine". (x2)
"And, by my faith, my lover Pierre, there's some already drawn." (x2)

The child in the cradle never speaks, he's spoken well, (x2)
"Don't drink this, father, you will die of it." (x2)

"Drink it yourself, Lady Lombard, drink it yourself." (x2)
"And, by faith, my lover Peter, I'm not thirsty." (x2)

She hadn't drunk half a glass [yet when] she tumbled out(x2)
She hadn't drunk the full glass [yet when] when she passed away. (x2)
"bré" is the word for "berceau" (cradle) in the Franche-Comté dialect – It's "breç" in Occitan and "bressol" in Catalan.

This song is of Italian origin. There are 16 versions of it in Canti popolari del Piemonte pubblicati da Costantino Nigra (1888). It's been collected in Italy in the early 1800's. There's a 18 pages comment after the songs (all in Italian)

Rendition by Malicorne
Rendition by Les voix de Gaïa band
Rendition by Pierre Bensusan

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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Mudcat singaround songs NOT in English
From: Monique
Date: 31 Jan 21 - 03:51 AM

Sung by Diplocase on 2020/08/03.
"Au chant de l'alouette" is a Canadian folk song from Québec.
AU CHANT DE L'ALOUETTE (French)

Si je vais à l'arbre, c'est pour y cueillir,
Si je vais à l'arbre, c'est pour y cueillir,
Je n'ai pas cueilli, j'ai cherché des nids.

Refrain
Au chant de l'alouette je veille et je dors,
J'écoute l'alouette et puis je m'endors,
Au chant de l'alouette je veille et je dors,
J'écoute l'alouette et puis je m'endors.

Je n'ai pas cueilli, j'ai cherché des nids,
Je n'ai pas cueilli, j'ai cherché des nids,
J'ai trouvé la caille couchée sur son nid.

(Refrain)

J'ai trouvé la caille couchée sur son nid,
J'ai trouvé la caille couchée sur son nid,
J' lui marchai sur l'aile et la lui rompis.

(Refrain)

J' lui marchai sur l'aile et la lui rompis,
J' lui marchai sur l'aile et la lui rompis,
Elle m'a dit : "Vilaine, va-t'en d'ici !".

(Refrain)

Elle m'a dit : "Vilaine, va-t'en d'ici !"
Elle m'a dit : "Vilaine, va-t'en d'ici !"
– Je n' suis pas vilaine, caille jolie.

(Refrain)

Je n' suis pas vilaine, caille jolie,
Je n' suis pas vilaine, caille jolie,
Tu n'auras de peine pour tes petits.

(Refrain)

Tu n'auras de peine pour tes petits,
Tu n'auras de peine pour tes petits,
Je vous f'rai manger dedans votre nid.

(Refrain)

Je vous f'rai manger dedans votre nid,
Je vous f'rai manger dedans votre nid.
–Si tu le fais, Belle, nous serons amies."
TO THE CHANT OF THE LARK (translation by Diplocase)

If I go to the tree, it's to pick [fruit],
If I go to the tree, it's to pick [fruit],
I didn't pick, I looked for nests.

(Chorus)
To the chant of the lark, I'm awake and I sleep,
I listen to the lark then I fall asleep,
To the chant of the lark, I'm awake and I sleep,
I listen to the lark then I fall asleep.

I didn't pick, I looked for nests,
I didn't pick, I looked for nests,
I found the quail lying on her nest.

(Chorus)

I found the quail lying on her nest,
I found the quail lying on her nest,
I stepped on her wing and I broke it.

(Chorus)

I stepped on her wing and I broke it,
I stepped on her wing and I broke it,
She told me, "Bad girl, go away from here!"

(Chorus)

She told me, "Bad girl, go away from here!"
She told me, "Bad girl, go away from here!"
"I'm no bad girl, pretty quail.

(Chorus)

I'm no bad girl, pretty quail,
I'm no bad girl, pretty quail,
You won't need worry about your little ones.

(Chorus)

You won't need worry about your little ones,
You won't need worry about your little ones,
I'll feed you in your nest.

(Chorus)

I'll feed you in your nest,
I'll feed you in your nest."
"If you do that, Pretty, we'll be friends."
Rendition by Les Karrik (1972)
Rendition by Édith Butler
French Choir live rendition
Live rendition by Les sœurs Brassard -Québec

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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 Roberto 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).

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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 - 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 mavaziju

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 - 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)

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 - 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: 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.

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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: 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 ~'Gwa'
**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

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

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

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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)

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.

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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 best 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: 05 Feb 21 - 05:03 AM

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: 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

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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)

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

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

SLUNÉČKO

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: 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: 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: 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)

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

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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

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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).

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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

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

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

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

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: 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: 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: Monique
Date: 04 Mar 21 - 04:05 AM

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

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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 (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: 10 Mar 21 - 03:35 AM

MON AMIE LA ROSE
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
Eblouissante 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)

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

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: 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 "exhumed" by scholars only a few decades ago. They weren't folk song. 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: 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: 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: 23 Mar 21 - 07:44 PM

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: 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: 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


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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?


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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.


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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
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: 29 Mar 21 - 04:25 PM

LO SOLDAT DESCONEGUT (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: 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.

É,dith Piaf live rendition.

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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

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!

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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

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: Mrrzy
Date: 12 Apr 21 - 03:24 PM

LE SOLDAT MÉCONTENT
(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: 12 Apr 21 - 03:30 PM

ΜΕ ΤΟ ΛΥΧΝΟ ΤΟΥ ΑΣΤΡΟΥ
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!

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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
(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: 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)

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: 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

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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