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Levent Yüksel - Med Cezir versuri traducere

Limba: 

Mareea

Răsplată de la salvator,
colorat,
deschis sezonier fără sezon
scumpa mea.
Mirosul variabil, sângele cald,
mă arzi.
Nu e ca şi cum renunți la
această maree*.
 
Furtuna mea, dezastru meu, dorința mea...
Nu ajunge, dragostea nu ajunge.
Ce drăguță este violența ta,
ce frumoasă este compasiunea*.
Iubitule iubirea mea vine la tine.
Până la moarte am să te urmăresc, n-am să te las.
 
Este inflamabil, nopțile sunt aprinse,
nopțile se sting.
Trupul meu e cu susul în jos, beat,
capul meu se întoarce.
Recunoaște confuz,
Sarea este confuză de recunoaștere scumpa mea.
Nu e ca şi cum renunți la
această maree*.
 
Furtuna mea, dezastru meu, dorința mea...
Nu ajunge, dragostea nu ajunge.
Ce drăguță este violența ta,
ce frumoasă este compasiunea*.
Iubitule iubirea mea vine la tine.
Până la moarte am să te urmăresc, n-am să te las.
 
Ege Kökenli
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Radio Paris is a liar

Radio Paris is a liar1
Radio Paris works for the other side,
a labour camp of their money.
Radio Paris is such
a shameless liar,
spinning the facts.
A bit more of red, when blood is spilled2.
 
Radio Paris is a liar,
it's feeding you bullshit,
it has put a screen in front of reality.
Radio Paris is a liar,
it's feeding you bullshit,
here are the good guys, here are the bad guys.
 
In your mike, you are allowed
to speak three full seconds before getting booted out,
cunningly monitored by the occupiers,
but you'll become a resistance fighter.
Stop standing at attention,
and go underground instead.
It will seek you out, save you,
interrogate you, but (you'd rather) take back your beloved freedom3 .
 
Radio Paris is a liar,
it's feeding you bullshit,
it has put a screen in front of reality.
Radio Paris is a liar,
it's feeding you bullshit,
here are the good guys, here are the bad guys.
 
Bringing in its weapons of mass cynicism,
its phoney pop stars4,
its antiquated newsreaders, as deceitful as a DJ's smile.
 
Radio Paris is a liar,
Radio Paris is feeding you bullshit,
and the bullshit5 makes you sick.
 
Radio Paris is a liar,
it's feeding you bullshit,
it has put a screen in front of reality.
Radio Paris is a liar,
it's feeding you bullshit,
here are the good guys, here are the bad guys.
 
  • 1. that alludes to the occupation of France during WWII. Radio Paris had been turned into a propaganda mouthpiece by the Germans, so the Free French broadcasted on the BBC the derisive jingle 'Radio Paris ment, Radio Paris ment, Radio Paris est allemand' (Radio Paris is a liar, Radio Paris is a liar, Radio Paris is German).
    Here 'Radio Paris' stands for current (French) mainstream medias
  • 2. I'm not quite sure I understand what he means there, but I suppose the idea is that the mainstream medias won't relay left-wing opinions unless some serious crisis happens
  • 3. 'liberté chérie' alludes to a line of the French national anthem that goes 'liberté, liberté chérie, combats avec tes défenseurs' (O freedom, beloved freedom, fight side by side with your champions)
  • 4. 'Plastic Bertrand' was a pop star of the 80's, and 'en plastique' can mean 'junk', 'rubbish', 'phoney'
  • 5. 'salade' literaly means 'lettuce' or 'salad'
Do whatever you want with my translations. I'm not rich enough to sue you anyway.

Black Mascara

I don't kick walls anymore
I no longer look for photos
I don't pray
I no longer wait for messages
Not crying from melodies anymore
I'm no longer moved
 
Even with Paris I'm done
And no glass of wine will bring me back there
Even when I sold my heart
To every tourist that got into my world
 
Clear tears on black mascara
I want to go out but I have no energy
I tried once to be meaner
But my heart says there's nowhere to run
Such a tragedy, such a mess
Such a chaos it is to be with you
 
I no longer spread the sheets
That you brought on better days
I no longer sway
And no white dress
Or an invitation for dinner
Can I imagine happening
 
Even with Paris I'm done
And no glass of wine will bring me back there
 
Clear tears on black mascara
I want to go out but I have no energy
I tried once to be
Meaner, but my heart says there's nowhere to run
Such a tragedy, such a mess
Such a chaos it is to be with you
 

Days and nights

There are days when i feel like a man
Days when I do more than I can
Days when I'm not sufficient
And days when I do as other wants
 
There are days when I can't get enough
And nights when I'm catching she who smiled
Days when I walk around and smiles
And nights much wants even more
 
But I take nights if they're coming
Forgets days like yesterday
Who wants to stand there with their anxiety
New crises, old wounds
I leave the shadows behind me
Now is now and then is then
All nights becomes to new days anyways
 
There are nights when I cry myself to sleep
And nights when I awakens in the middle of a dream
Nights when I don't fall asleep at all
And nights with an arm around my neck
 
There are nights when I said something that was good
And days when I regret everything I said
Days when I think it was good
And nights when I've forgot what it was
 
But I take nights if they're coming
Forgets days like yesterday
Who wants to stand there with their anxiety
New crises, old wounds
I leave the shadows behind me
Now is now and then is then
All nights becomes to new days anyways
 
There are nights when I realised who I am
The day after I know roughly
Nights when I load my rifle
And really makes everything to become in love
 
There are nights when i see myself as a threat
And days when I want to withstand
Days when I just want to root
And days when I think 'idiot'
 
But I take nights if they're coming
Forgets days like yesterday
Who wants to stand there with their anxiety
New crises, old wounds
I leave the shadows behind me
Now is now and then is then
All nights becomes to new days anyways
 
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Bro

We will live on our own,
Yet, for more than a day,
Until you will find a brother in me,
And I will find a sister in you.
 
Although we are one,
We still live on our own
And those, who are born one at a time
Are still waiting for gossip.
 
Bro*, your water is from air, from which I also am x4
 
We are afraid of silence
And of what it hides,
Because there is no emptiness,
not a clue of it.
 
We are a part of a plan
And we ourselves create that plan,
Where noise ends,
There is your beginning.
 
Bro*, your water is from air, from which I also am x9
 
Brought to you by: a dude with a darn long name who is commonly called Simon