Allan Edwall - Årstider Лирицс транслатион то енглисх

Seasons

Now the lovely summer is here
with lust and beauty great
And brown legs and thin shoes
And the tit that in the birdhouse lives
And smell of bird cherry and karsk
And the can full of worms
 
And barely has the sun gone down
and it starts going up
And the factory is stopped
At the highest peak of the chimney pot,
the wagtail has built its nest
Everything seems calm and peaceful
 
And our factory manager
is doing brilliantly
He took the cash with him
and ran as they do,
from a burdensome tax
And now it is rumoured that
he is playing catch with the tax collector
 
Then the lovely autumn is here
that we have been waiting for
With yellow leaves and ripe berries
And apple trees with apples on them
And cool night and windy day
And some welfare benefits
that you can get by on
So why complain then?
 
And our chief engineer
is doing brilliantly
He got cash from the government
to continue with
As happily as before,
somewhere south,
he goes on day in and out
 
Then the lovely winter is here
that we have been waiting for
On wintry hard and frozen ground,
we travel on an old kicksled
First the way to the employment office
and then back home again,
with the same rejection as before
And then, the winter ends
 
But the factory accountant,
we will hardly see again
Because he got what the law
gives to criminals
For some year, he will walk
in a building ugly and gray
for the figures that he believed in
 
Then the lovely time of spring comes
that we have been waiting for
When the stream is rippling happy and quick
And the lark does its whistles
And the ground is germinating and sprouting
around my unemployed body
And up rises the sap of the trees
that summer is made of
 
And now, odd will get even
The municipality has decided so
Because the factory that the view
for long has obscured,
and where effort and toil
smells like blood, sweat and filth,
is removed with a doze of dynamite
 
Then the lovely summer is here
with lust and beauty great
And brown legs and thin shoes
And the tit that in the birdhouse lives
And karsk and accordion tune
And wasp nests and motor boat
And the milk central's cold ice cream
And outdoor dancing and outhouse
And the pounding from a fishing boat
And juice in carton box
 
And you are unoccupied and free
And you don't give a shit about it
Because soon it does not matter how it will be
 


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