Lyrics and translation Liricas Analas - Mira ?

Mira ?

Mira, mira - mir'anavos tut che semida.
Mira, mira - mir'anavon pren uss la sfida.
Mira, mira - mir'anavos tut che semida.
Mira, mira - mir'anavon.

Sche jeu studegel sco ei era e cumparegliel cun oz,
Cura ch'el steva e scheva: Buc cuntents cul job!
Ei mudregi da tut temps da di e da notg!
El ha stuiu morder sils dents e quei onns.
Perposta dad haver empriu il falliu mistregn!
Baul saviu che quei vegni nuot perquei è viu ner,
Schau dar in daguot ni l'auter, el era è buns da far da pauper.
Cumpassiun cun sesez mo buc culs auters!
Quei ch'ei oz auter, in tras gl'auter ha fatg svilup enorm.
Anflau schlontsch e vegnius pli gronds.
Ius vinavon toc per toc,
Buc fugius ni curdaus giun plaun.
Staus neu per il siu, fadigiau siu paun da mintga di.
Cun mintga di dapli senta el ch'ei va ensi.
Ed ei vesa or sco sch'ei mass si!
La frastga verda el sacados e pinaus per dapli!

Ditg ha el studegiau, sespruau, semudergiau,
Ius cul tgau tras mir tochen ch'el ha tscheccau
Che tut ei buc gartegiau sco el ha vuliu.
Ius ed ius tut quei ch'el ha pudiu.
El ha dau e priu, pli bia dau che priu.
Ed uss? Tut quei ch'el ha dau ei svaniu.
Ius tier il falliu, tier la fallida.
Ida la sfida da midar tut per adina.
Aschia va quei: ins ha visiuns e giavischs.
E sch'ins mira anavos mo il temps ch'ei currius.
Biaras schanzas restan munchentadas,
Certas dultschas uras lavagadas,
Sfarlatadas, ord motivs che tut far fa buc senn.
Zacu vesan ins en, ok igl ei voll da penn, sco tut ei iu.
Sch'ei fuss aber buc iu sco tut ei iu,
Fuss el oz buc el liug!

Cul trutg ei sesaviarts avon ses egls schi tschocs
Era ei tard en sia veta, el era vegls e cotgs.
Emprendissadi, era il meglier job.
Mo el ha priu il schi vuliu, el survegn quei toc.
Per esser cuntents ha el investau ina massa,
Seigi ei peda ed energia, traso vita cassa.
Per ventgatons onns, piardas aschia la fatscha.
En sortida cun vegn francs ed in stift en tastga.
Ed el mira anavos e sto buc mo rir empau,
Cul stift ha el empriu da malegiar ed il cash schazegiau.
Ei vegn gie meglier zacu pli tard ni pli baul,
Scheva el adina e quei patratg ei restaus.
Oz ei il cash per el buc pli propi in tema
Ed il stift siu uaffen, l'agentura siu schema,
Ella fiera vida luvrar, gnanc fa la gliema.
El mira anavos ed el careza la veta.

Look?

Look, look - they see us down here.
Look, look - they took us up on the challenge.
Look, look - they see us down here.
Look, look.

As a student, how I was then and how I compare with today,
When he was there and used to say: Not satisfied with the job!
The wise men of all times, day and night!
He had to bite his teeth those years.
Just to have learned from the wrong master!
Foolish enough to know that it's nothing because it's old or new,
Be it today or tomorrow, it was and is good enough to be poor.
Sympathy for oneself but not for others!
What is different today, one after the other has developed enormously.
Found their way and have become more mature.
You go on little by little,
Not fleeing or running away, but nice and slow.
Stood up for his own, toiled for his daily bread.
With each day he feels more and more that it's working out.
And he sees how it's building up!
The green foliage in the fields, to harvest and more!

For a long time he studied, experimented, struggled,
Went through hell until he realized
That not everything is arranged as he wanted it to be.
Went and went as much as he could.
He has given and taken, given more than taken.
And now? All that he has given is gone.
Gone to the failure, to the failure.
Gone to the challenge of changing everything, forever.
That's how it goes: you have visions and desires.
And when you look back, the time has passed.
Many opportunities remain untapped,
Some sweet hours washed away,
Shattered, for reasons that don't make sense.
Sometimes you only see it when everything is gone.
But if it hadn't turned out the way it did,
He wouldn't be where he is today!

His face is covered with deep wrinkles
His life was now over, he was old and weak.
Apprenticeship, that was the best job.
But he took what he wanted, so he got his due.
To be happy, he had invested too much,
Be it money and energy, through life's hard work.
For twenty-seven years, he lost his face that way.
On his way out with twenty francs and a pen in his pocket.
And he looks back and can't help but laugh,
With the pen he learned to paint and waste money.
It gets better later or sooner,
He always said and that has remained true.
Now money is no longer an issue for him
And the pen his weapon, the agency his scheme,
In the fair life of work, not even the cold bothers him.
He looks back and he caresses his life.