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| Arşivimizdeki şarkı sözü sayısı 158.000'i geçti! |
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Garmarna - Sorgsen Ton Şarkı Sözleri
om ett forfarligt under du som det hor mark noga till och minns det alla stunder vid gibbau by vid penne strand i pommern i det tyska land sig denna saken hander en fattig bonde bodde dar och barn han hade manga som gjorde honom stort besvar om brod han nodgas ganga den aldsta dottern av sin far samt mor och syskon avsked tar och ger sig ut att tjana en tid darefter hande sig att fadern hennes dodde och modern som sig omkelig pa kapp och krycka stodde bad dottern som var tamligt rik till graven hjalpa faderns lik som barnslig plikt befaller hon svarte det gar mig ej an ej for mig skuld det bringar begraven hur i vill och kan men jag mitt mynt ej skingrar hur jag gar kladder var man ser stor sak vad grav man gubben ger ej darom nagon skoter da hennes fru slik hardhet sag hon mera adelt tankte hon var barmhartig i sin hag hon mat och pengar skankte dess fru gav henne tvenne brod att ge sin mor som led stor nod och sadan hjalp behovde nar hon ett stycke hade gatt och harmsen brodet burit sin frus barmhartighet forsmatt och argt pa modern svurit kom hon dar vagen oren var tank vad for medel da hon tar att fina skorna spara dar fanns ej sten dar fanns ej spang varpa hon kunde kliva ga kring blev vagen alltfor lang ej vill hon smutsig bliva da lagger hon de broden sa att hon pa dem kund torrskodd ga men straffet resan stackte dess fotter fastnar genast kvar da hon pa brodet trader pa benen hon forgaves drar hon bannar svar och hadar ty som en stor och jordfast sten ororlig star ock hennes ben i marken synes fasta hon ropar da jag usla barn forsmatt min moder snalla har sjalv mig snarjt i syndens garn det far jag nu umgalla om hjalp hon tigger varje man de bjuda till men ingen kan dess fot fran marken rora ej kunde hon de sista ord med bruten rost framfora forran den eljest fasta jord begynte sig att rora hon knappte sina hander ihop och sjonk sa neder i en grop som henne strax betackte i manniskor betanken er hogfarden laten fara och girigheten som man ser ar och en farlig snara lat pigans ofard varna er fran synd och flard allt mer och mer och fran hogfardig levnad woeful tones in woeful tones i mean to tell a tale of dread and wonder whoever hears it, listen well, and on its meaning ponder. in gibbau, by the penne sea, in pomerania, in germany, these strange events unfolded. a farmer lived in poverty there whose children were so many that he was driven in despair to beg for food and money. the eldest daughter bade adieu to sisters, brothers and parents too, to earn a servant´s wages. some time later her father´s soul this earthly life departed. her mother, who was lame and old, by stick and crutch supported, upon her wealthy daughter called for help with the father´s funeral, as is a daughter´s duty. "why come to me?" the daughter said "give him a pauper´s burial! i´ll waste no money on the dead, nor let my mind be troubled. everyone sees the clothes i wear, but what does anybody care what grave the old man lies in?" such words of cruelty dismayed her nobler-hearted mistress. she sent both money and food to aid the family in her kindness. the mistress gave two new-baked loaves and bade the daughter carry those home to her needy mother. when she had gone a little way, carrying the bread in anger, despising her mistress´s charity and cursing her starving mother, she came to a mud patch damp and deep - and this is what she did to keep her fine new shoes unsullied: no stone nor plank nor bridge was there to help her on her journey. to leave her path she did not care - that way was long and dirty. the loaves of bread she threw straight down as stepping-stones to drier ground but this she soon regretted. her feet stuck fast immediately when on the bread they landed. in vain she tried to pull them free, she cursed and swore and ranted. for like a stone stuck in the ground her legs sank helpless deeper down - she could not even move them. she cries aloud, "alas that i spurned the pleas of my kind old mother! this is the punishment i´ve earned, a wretched, sinful daughter!" each passer-by for help she begs, but none can free her earthbound legs however hard they struggle. she had not spoken her last words in a voice trembling with terror before the ground she stood on stirred and opened wide beneath her. in silent prayer her hands she clasped and sank until the earth at last all trace of her had covered. all you who hear this tale, take care, lest your own pride betray you. remember likewise to beware the tricks that greed can play you. let this maid´s fate warn everyone the sin of luxury to shun and vain, conceited living. translation by alistar cochrane |
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