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Jan Malmsjö - Puff, en pappersdrake Лирицс транслатион то енглисх

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Puff, a paper kite

(Spoken)
Once upon a time there was a paper kite named Puff
Who was lying by the beach
He dreamt about flying to a faraway fairytale land
And then came a boy named Peter
And Puff got so happy
'Come! Play with me, and help me fly'
Puff asked him nicely
 
(Sung)
Yes, of course you may fly
High into the sky (Blue)
I'll give you speed and soon you will
Reach over the treetops
Puff, the happy kite
Is floating happily
And dances with a summer wind
Which takes a grip of his wings
 
'Come on, let's go
On big adventures'
Puff's yelling at Peter
As he goes up to the sky
Princes and princesses
Shall bow for us two
And the king's guard who spot us
Shall stand at attention
 
Yes Puff, the happy kite
Flew over the beach
He floated in the sky
To a faraway fairytale country
Puff and Peter are playing
With each other all the time
And many big adventures
They found in their fairytale country
 
(Spoken)
But kites just want to fly
And boys grow up
And one day the passing of time
Put a stop to their playing
Perhaps Peter forgot about his old friend
For Puff never saw his playmate again
And Puff misses Peter
He mourns every day
The winds can't take a grip of his wings anymore
For one can't fly alone, Puff knows
And now gone is Peter
Who helped him with that
 
(Sung)
Puff, a paper kite
Is flying on the beach
He may now never fly again
In a sunny summerland
Puff, the poor kite
Is being hidden in sand
And he may never fly again
For it's autumn in the country of the fairytales
 

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Више лирицс транслатионс

Dispersion

I got lost in myself
Cause I was a labyrinth
And today, as I feel me.
It's in longing of me
 
I'd passed through my life
A dreaming wild star
Yearning to overstep,
I badly was aware of my life...
 
For me, it is always yesterday,
I have not tomorrow either today
The time that elapses to others,
Falls on me like yesterday.
 
(The sunday in Paris
Reminds me the disappeared one
That was thrilled
The sunday in Paris:
 
Cause sunday is family
Is well-being, is simplicity,
And those who look the beauty
Haven't well-being either family)
 
Poor guy of yearnings...
You, yes, you were someone!
And that was also why
You deepened me into yearnings.
 
The great golden bird
Flapped its wings toward the sky
But refrained them satisfied
In seeing that it reached the sky.
 
As a lover cries
Thus I cry for myself
I was an unsteady lover
That betrayed himself
 
I can't feel the space I enclose
Either lines I protect:
If I look me in a mirror, I'm miss it
I can't find me in what I project.
 
I come back into myself
But it tell me nothing at all!
I've got my soul shrouded,
Dried out inside me.
 
I didn't lose my soul,
I got it lost
So I mourn about life,
The death of my life
Longingly I recall
A kindly partner
That in my whole life
I've never seen... but I remember
 
Her golden mouth
And her fainted body,
In a lost breath
That comes in gilding evening.
 
(My great longings
Are of what I've never took over
Oh, how I'm gonna missing
The dreams I'd never dreamed!)
 
I feel that my death
My whole dispersion
Exist far away in the north
In a big central city.
 
I see my last day,
Painted on rolls of tobacco
And all blue of agony
In shadow and yonder I disappear
 
Tenderness like yearning
I kiss my white hands...
I am love and mercy
In face of these white hands...
 
Sad hands, long and beautiful
That was meant to give...
Nobody else wanted to shake...
Sad hands, long and beautiful...
 
I have pity of me,
Poor ideal boy...
What lacked me after all?
A link? A footprint? Woe of me!
 
The twilight came down to my soul
I've been someone that has passed by
I'll be, But I'm not anyway
I don't live, I dream the twilight.
 
Alcohol of a autumn sleep
Pierced me vaguely
spreading me dormant
In an autumn breeze
 
I'd lost the death and life
And crazy, I don't get out of my mind
The lived hour flees
I follow it, but I don't remain...
 
Dismantled castle,
Winged maneless lions...
 

amazarashi - ''14 Years Old'' 14歳

Versions: #2
14 Years Old
 
Songs of ash.
 
Powerlessness.
 
Grief and mourning.
 
The gloom of crows, sitting on the overhead wire of the North-bound Joban Line platform.
 
The gloom of the girl watching them, shouldering days that she can't laugh away.
 
''Every day, it's always the same, but I'm not a kid anymore. So I won't chase after the things that have left, and I won't look back on things past. I still feel like I'm making a mistake, but there's surely no getting around that.''
 
The long hair of a boy, who came to Tokyo with a dream sways in the gust from the city's high-rises. And she watches it.
 
She watches.
 
With the eves of a crow, she watches.
 
She watches.
 
Songs of ash.
 
Powerlessness.
 
Grief and mourning.
 
I have no idea where I am.
 
I can't put up with the lingering ridicule.
 
It's like white dwarf star down an alleyway, and I'd like to be incinerated in it.
 
In an instant, I'd be turned to dust, blow off into the wind, and disappear.
 
But I'm cooped up in a locked room, so I won't even burn out or anything.
 
A father and son were laughing out on the veranda of an orange apartment building.
 
Their voices were confident that good things would happen tomorrow.
 
But it was a little heartbreaking, just how confident those voices were.
 
Because with dark clouds in the distante, I'm sure there will be rain tomorrow.
 
It wasn't fun, but we tried to smile.
 
And yet, we're still empty inside.
 
Right now, I need to start doing something.
 
In that case, I'll sing songs.
 
I'll sing the songs that I love.
 
I'll sing the songs that I love.
 
I'll sing the songs that I love.
 
Songs of ash.
 
Powerlessness.
 
Grief and mourning.
 
In the attic of teenage self-consciousness, which wanted to fit in more than anything else, all the light is blocked out by posters that say things like, ''I didn't want people to dislike me''.
 
''What on earth can I even become?'' - in the end, I didn't really become anything.
 
Still today I live on, sipping an evening dew that resembles the embers of adolescence.
 
Unlike all the American movies, my happy ending never came.
 
In the end I'm still me, so in the end today is still today.
 
I thought we were supposed to have the power to change our futures.
 
A run-of-the-mill variety show playing on TV made me laugh a little.
 
It wasn't sad, but tears still fell.
 
That's because we're always empty inside.
 
Right now, I need to start doing something. In that case, I'll sing songs.
 
I'll sing the songs that I love.
 
I'll sing the songs that I love.
 
I'll sing the songs that I love.
 
She didn't want to live, but she still survived.
 
Because even today, she's still empty inside.
 
Right now, I need to convey something. In that case, I'll sing songs.
 
Though dreams don't really exist, I tried to sing.
 
Because in the end, everything is garbage.
 
Right now, I need to leave something behind. In that case, I'll sing songs.
 
I'll sing the songs that I love.
 
I'll sing the songs that I love.
 
I'll sing the songs that I love.
 
Songs of ash.
 
Powerlessness.
 
Grief and mourning.
 
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(poetic)

The Paper Dove

And now that love has ended
every day is a life—
a breath is over without you
but why, but why?
 
But where are you going?
Rush to find the sun,
leaving behind you a man who doesn't know
what and where reality is.
Why?
 
There must be a place
where the woe lasts for only an instant—
where a sunset lasts for a year,
and a love lasts forever.
 
I think that there is
a place where you can
stop time—stop the world—
as it pleases you—where you can meet
 
someone who smiles like you, who is sweet like you,
who loves like you—
I am sure that I will meet you—
I will meet you—I will meet you
 
in the blue silence of the sky.
White and fragile fly the paper doves—
our reason rises higher than all of them
and steals the last spark of the sun—
then—then there is nothing more.
 
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Golden Whales

Verse 1:
“How are you, Nastya?”
“Everything is fine, Potap.'
“Well how are you, Nastya?”
“Everything is fine, Potap.”
“How are you, Nastya?”
“Everything is fine, Potap.”
Well, Potap, start your hip-hop, hey!
Our group is ten years old.
Many collapsed, but we didn’t.
And you know the answer, when there’s talk
About the best duet.
That’s why we were born:
To lift the moods of all generations.
May I ask one favor?
Hands in the air, hands in the air!
Hands-hands in the air!
May the musical spirit be with you.
Oof, we will tear you to shreds.
Against the background sh…
She is just fantastic, not a single surgeon, no plastic at all.
Don’t touch the natural Nastya.
What about me, and what am I to you, friends?
I was in another galaxy a long time ago.
You have a chance to perceive this in practice!
 
Chorus:
We are golden whales, we are golden whales.
We are swimming in the ocean of [our] dreams.
We are golden whales.
Not dolphins, not sharks — we are golden whales.
Golden whales, we are golden whales.
We are golden whales, we are golden whales.
We are golden whales…
 
Verse 2:
“How are you, Potap?”
“Everything is fine, Nastya.”
“How are you, Potap?”
“Everything is fine, Nastya.”
“How are you, Potap?”
“Everything is fine, Nastya.”
Come on, give everyone some of your passion.
N-A-S-T-Ya — that’s me, you know me well.
I keep it together, son, I am expensive wine:
The older, the tastier — understood?
I am a superbrand — Kamenskikh, Nastya
Oh my God, here’s my blog.
Potap couldn’t continue fabricating lies.
 
Chorus:
We are golden whales, we are golden whales.
We are swimming in the ocean of [our] dreams.
We are golden whales.
Not dolphins, not sharks — we are golden whales.
Golden whales, we are golden whales.
We are golden whales, we are golden whales.
We are golden whales, we are golden whales!