Paroles et traduction BAP - Dä letzte Winter em letzte Kreech (Unplugged Version)

Dä letzte Winter em letzte Kreech (Unplugged Version)

Et wohr dä letzte Winter em letzte Kreech,
Do maaten se sich met ′nem Leiderwaare op dä Wääsch:
Russ uss dä Jeisterstadt, russ uss däm Trömmerfeld,
"Wo jede Naach et Höllefüer uss 'äm Himmel fällt."
Die Entourage uss Fraue, Kinder un ′nem ahle Hehr
Met singem jüngste Sohn em Rollstohl immer hingerher,
Kohm ahn 'nem Mettwochohvend noh 'ner Odysee
Em Nirjendwo bei Gera ahn, et feel dä eezte Schnie.
Zwei Persilkartons, sechs Koffer, jeder ′n Deck,
Pott un Pann, en Fläsch Schabau
Un – mer weiß jo nie – et silverne Besteck,
Enn ′nem Klüttesack verstaut.
Nä, he die Jäjend hatt sich keiner ussjesöök,
Evakuiert wood mer heher, enn Hüüser rinnjesteck
Zo Lück, die selver kaum jet hatte, wat mer deile kunnt.
Et einzig Positive wohr, dat nix enn Flamme stundt.
Zo övverlevve vun däm, wat mer op sing Marke kräät,
Wohr illusorisch, un wemmer nit maggle däät,
Dann wood mer krank, et joov nur Kappeszupp
Un, wemmer Jlöck hatt, aff un zo e' Stöckche Brut.
Eines Ohvends hätt dä Ahl sich hinjesetz
Met ′ner Laubsääsch un 'nem Brett,
Vüürjezeichnet un bess spät nahx ussjesääsch
Drei Könije für en Kripp.
Un enn dä nähxte Naach, do kohm noch mieh dozo:
Maria, Josef un dä Klein, ne Esel un en Koh,
′Ne Engel un 'ne Hirte un e′ jääl Kamel
Un dä Stään, dä övver Bethlehem vum Himmel feel.
Vun do ahn hätt e' wie besesse produziert,
Dat Sperrholz hatt sing Frau orjanisiert.
Sing Enkeldöchter jinge dann domet vun Düür zo Düür
Un krääte he un do sujar e' Döppe Schmalz dofür.
Un dä ahle Hehr wohr stolz wie sibbe Mann,
Wenn om Desch en Mohlzick stundt:
"Ess dat all vun däm, wat ich jearbeit hann?" –
Vun däm einz′je, wat e′ kunnt.
"Ävver secher", saat dodrop et Käthi sanft,
"Wat meinste, Opa, wat se sich dodröm jerisse hann?!"
Ihr Mutter un ihr Tante hann nur jnädig fottjeluhrt,
Duutmööd vun ihrer Maggeltour,
Op der se Silverlöffel jäje Botter enjetuhsch
Un selvsjestrickte Socke jäje Speck un Woosch,
'Ne Büggel Muckefuck, ′ne Liter suhre Wing
Un e' Schooffell jäje Opas Röggeping.
Hermann Platz, wenn ich dich ens em Himmel treff,
Drink mer eine op ding Schöss:
Oma, Netta, Ännie, Margret un dä Ress,
Ohne die′t uns Kripp nit jööv
Un su manch andres och nit, dat steht fess –
Huh die Jläser, op ding Schöss!

Dä letzte Winter em letzte Kreech (Unplugged Version)

Darling, it was the last winter in the last war,
When they threw us into a cattle car and took us to the front
"Away from the ghost town, far from the fields of dreams,
"Where hellfire rains down from the sky every night."
A group of women, children, and an old man
With his youngest son always behind him in a wheelchair,
Came to Gera on a wednesday evening after an odyssey,
Nowhere to be found, the first snow is falling.
Two boxes of Persil, six suitcases, a blanket each,
Pots and pans, a bottle of Schnapps
And – you never know – the silver cutlery,
Stowed away in a knapsack.
No, no one had chosen this area,
We were evacuated here, squeezed into houses
With people who hardly had anything themselves to share.
The only positive thing was that nothing was on fire.
It was impossible to survive on what we got on our ration cards,
And if we didn't steal, then we would get sick,
There was only cabbage soup
And, if we were lucky, a piece of bread now and then.
One evening the old man sat down
With a fretsaw and a board,
Drew a design and then sawed out
Three kings for a manger.
And the next night, more came:
Mary, Joseph and the Christ child, a donkey and a cow,
An angel and a shepherd and a yellow camel
And the star that fell from heaven over Bethlehem.
From then on he produced like a madman,
His wife organized the plywood.
His granddaughters then went from door to door
And sometimes even got a jar of lard for them.
And the old man was proud as punch,
When there was a meal on the table:
"Is this all from what I worked for?" –
From the only thing he could do.
"Of course," said Käthi gently,
"What do you think, grandpa, how they fought over it?!
Their mothers and their aunts just looked away.
They were tired from their rounds,
Where they exchanged silver spoons for butter
And hand-knitted socks for bacon and sausage,
A bag of coffee, a liter of pure wine
And a sheepskin for grandpa's back pain.
Hermann Platz, if I ever meet you in heaven,
Raise a glass to your loved ones:
Oma, Netta, Ännie, Margret, and the rest,
Without whom our manger would not exist
And so many other things, that's for sure –
Raise your glasses, to your loved ones!