Postkort Fra Prot Stanley - C.V. Jørgensen Übersetzung ins Englische

Postkort Fra Prot Stanley

Nu smiler Lady Margaret Thatcher
Blottende tre plomber & en bro
Sit liderlige iskolde ligblege smil
Stædigt ventende på Quinn the Eskimo
Rule Britannia britternes slagsang
Var godt i gang med helt at dø hen
Da Maggie herself tog mikrofonen
& Afsang den play-back igen & igen
For alle sine drenge der aldrig blev mænd

De vasker stranden ren ved Port Stanley
Hvor sporene de skræmmer endnu
& Tonsvis af Tommy'er kom langvejs fra
For ved selvsyn at bese et Waterloo
Men nu tilbage til London & dens gader
Hvor bybilledet brød ud i anarki
Da Lady Madonna kom ud & stod på flisen
Foran døren ind til Downing Street 10
Hvor hun Gud bedre det endnu er på kost & logi

Hejs det hvide flag
& Erkend hellere dit nederlag
For når først Maggie Messer den mær
Har følt sig gået lidt for nær
Trækker hun i rustning for i frihedens navn
At gå i clinch med alle & enhver
Svingende skeden til retfærdighedens sværd

Livet mister sin mening
Når det skal leves som vi gør det her
Hvor lig på lig i skøn forening
Bli'r til legender eller de monumenter
Vi for eftertiden aldrig ser

Postcard from Port Stanley

Now Lady Margaret Thatcher smiles
Baring three fillings & a bridge
Her wanton icy corpse-like smile
Stubbornly waiting for Quinn the Eskimo
Rule Britannia Britons' battle song
Was well on its way to dying out altogether
When Maggie herself grabbed the microphone
& Sang the playback again & again
For all her boys who never became men

They're cleaning the beach at Port Stanley
Where the traces still scare
& Tons of Tommies came from far away
To witness a Waterloo at first hand
But now back to London & its streets
Where the cityscape erupted in anarchy
When Lady Madonna came out & stood on the tiles
In front of the door to 10 Downing Street
Where thank heavens she's still at bed & board

Hoist the white flag
& Better admit your defeat
For when Maggie Messer finally smells it
Has felt herself walked on a bit too closely
She pulls on her armor for in the name of freedom
To come to blows with anyone & everyone
Brandishing her scabbard as the sword of justice

Life loses its meaning
When it has to be lived like this
Where in beautiful union corpse upon corpse
Become legends or monuments
That we shall never see for posterity