Paroles et traduction Arash Saretan - Shahre Man

Shahre Man

دی جی ۸
خاک پای شهرم
من
نه مَردمِش
سرِطان

شهر من، همیشه بوده رازدارِ مردمش
که خاطرات تک تکشونو جای داده در خودِش
خیابونا پر از خاطراتِ خوب و بد
از هرکسی که دیگه مونده جای پاش توی شهر
کوچه هاش میده بوی بچِگیمو
هرکی اهل اینجاست میدونه قدرِ اینو
مثل کف دستم، خیابونارو میشناسم
توشون که پا میذارم، میان اونا به پیشوازم
و هرجا راه میرم من آشِناس صحنه ها
عمر میگذره، پَ خاطرات سهمِ ماس
یاد اون روزا که دفن شدن رفتن و (من خیلی)
من خیلی سختمه که ترک کنم شهرمو (نخیر)
تو دفتر صد برگم
میارم کاغذ کم
اگه بخوام بگم که من چقد به شهرم وابسته م
بدون که تا هستم
نفس میکشه دار دستم
اینجا شهر منه؛ من عاشقشم لامصّب

زنده باد محله، زنده باد اهلِ شهر
منم که راه میرم با چشِّ باز تو سطحِ شهر
رو به راهه اوضاع خوبه حال دنیا ولی
عادت داره روح ما به طُغیان
زنده باد زندگی تو کوچه های گرگان
با زوزه های گرگاش
منم اون اسیری که اعتراف نکرده
با سکوتش میگه زنده باد محله

ما کجاییم تو کجایی داش؟ (ها؟)
وقتی ما تا صب بیداریم ها
گل میکاریم ما تو پارک (هو)
ده نفر به بالا توی شهر قدم میذاشتیم و
داشتم هوای پشتیمو
واسه خودمون تیریپی داشتیمّ و (یو)
ولی امروز در آغوشِ انکار (چی)
خاطراتو کردیم فراموشش انگار
همین که به در کارشون رفت در کل پ
سرِطانو اینا یادشون رفت (به تخمم)
نتونستن اونا درک کنن حرفمو (نه)
پَ من خواستم که ترک کنم شهرمو
چون دشمنن با دوستاشون
شهرو اشتباه میگیرن با روستاشون بعضیا
فشار سنگینه راه به راه رو دوشِ ما (هی)
نه مردمش، بلکه خاکِ پایِ کوچه هاشَ م
پَ شهر من، سلام
با اینکه دورم من
ولی مُدام تو فکرمی (گرگان؛ روستاشَم)

زنده باد محله، زنده باد اهلِ شهر
منم که راه میرم با چشِّ باز تو سطحِ شهر
رو به راهه اوضاع خوبه حال دنیا ولی
عادت داره روح ما به طُغیان
زنده باد زندگی تو کوچه های گرگان
با زوزه های گرگاش
منم اون اسیری که اعتراف نکرده
با سکوتش میگه زنده باد محلّه

Shahre Man

DJ 8
The dust of my city's soil
I
not its people
Cancer

My city has always kept its people's secrets,
Whose memories, one by one, it holds within itself.
The streets are full of both good and bad memories
From everyone whose mark has been left in the city.
Its alleys smell like my childhood
Anyone from here knows its worth
I know the streets like the back of my hand.
When I walk in them, they come to greet me.
And wherever I go, the scenes are familiar.
Life passes by, but memories are ours to keep.
Remember those days that have long since gone and (I)
I find it so hard to leave my city (no)
In my hundred-page notebook,
I run out of paper
If I were to say how much I am attached to my city
Know that while I live
My city will live, too.
This is my city; I love it, damn it.

Long live the neighborhood, long live the people of the city.
I am the one who walks with open eyes through the city.
Things are going well, the world is in a good state,
But our souls are accustomed to rebellion.
Long live life in the alleys of Gorgan,
With the howls of its wolves.
I am the prisoner who has not confessed,
Who says with his silence, long live the neighborhood.

Where are you, and where are we, my friend? (huh?)
When we stay up until dawn, you know,
We plant flowers in the park (hey)
We used to walk around the city, ten or more of us, and
I was watching your back.
We had our own thing going on (yeah).
But today, in the face of denial (what?)
We have forgotten our memories, it seems.
As soon as they went to work, bang
They forgot all about cancer and the rest (I don't care).
They couldn't understand what I was saying (no).
So I wanted to leave my city.
Because they are enemies with their friends.
Some people mistake the city for their village.
The pressure is heavy on our shoulders all the time (hey).
Not its people, but the dust of its alleys
So, my city, hello,
Even though I am far away,
You are always on my mind (Gorgan; its village too).

Long live the neighborhood, long live the people of the city.
I am the one who walks with open eyes through the city.
Things are going well, the world is in a good state,
But our souls are accustomed to rebellion.
Long live life in the alleys of Gorgan,
With the howls of its wolves.
I am the prisoner who has not confessed,
Who says with his silence, long live the neighborhood.