FREDMAN'S EPISTLE NO. 81, aka Mark How Our Shadow скачать в хорошем качестве

FREDMAN'S EPISTLE NO. 81, aka Mark How Our Shadow

Take one of what is meant to be a finished project by yuletide 2022. The plan is for this song to have a proper English version by then, but for now, I've made a speed prose translation. This ballad was released in "Fredmans Epistlar" in 1790. Carl Michael Bellman is one of Sweden's most renowned poets and composers. PROSE TRANSLATION: Mark how our shadow, mark, Movitz mon frère, within a darkness ends, How gold and purple in that shovel, is changed to grit and rags. Charon waves from his roaring stream, and three times too the gravedigger waves, no more your grape will glisten. Therefore, Movitz, come help me place a gravestone over our sister. The small bell chimes to the big bell's tolls, The Pastor stands by the flower arrangements at the gates; And to the squalling boys' prayers, this site is hallowed. The path to the tombs by the city's temple, Is trodden between the yellowed leaves of roses, rotting planks and biers; Until the long and black-clad row, deeply bows in tears. Thus went to rest, from brawls and ball, Quarrelsome Löfberg, your wife; There, through the grass, long-necked and thin, she still returns the stare. She left through the Danto barrier today, And with her went all the merry feasts; Who shall command the bottle now? Thirsty she was, and very thirsty am I; We are all thirsty.