Garšvielu Songs - Raimonds Pauls traduction en anglais

Garšvielu Songs

Tam kanēlis, kafija, ing(a)vērs
Un kardamons, kardamons piederēs,
Tas pārvaldīs pasauli, pasauli
Un varbūt tie, varbūt tie būsim mēs.

Mēs cepsim no pasaules smalkmaizi,
Mums vajadzīgs, vajadzīgs tieši tas,
Šie citroni, cukuri, cukāti
Un magoņu, magoņu sēkliņas.

Tu sēdēsi, smalkmaizi apkampis,
Būs pasaule, pasaule tava galds,
Bet pasaulē, pasaulē, pasaulē
Viss pēkšņi kļūs, pēkšņi kļūs pārāk salds.

Tad nosmirdēs benzīni, dīzeļi
Un sapnī tev, sapnī tev nafta nāks,
Un pasaule, pasaule mainīsies
Un cept viņa, cept viņa karu sāks.

Bet karotes nafta sāks karoties,
Jo viss bijis, viss bijis pārāk salds,
Un kafijas tasītēs naftu vien
Reiz pieredzēs, pieredzēs mūsu galds.

Tu šausies, tu dursies, tu bumbosies
Dēļ naftas, dēļ naftas, dēļ naftas vien,
Kam nafta šai pasaulei piederēs,
Tas pārvaldīs, pārvaldīs galdu viens.

Un aizlidos tasītes, terīnes
Un biķeris, biķeris aizlidos,
Uz vecajiem laikiem tur atpakaļ
Kā rudenī, rudenī meža zoss.

Kur cep vēl no pasaules smalkmaizi,
Jo vajadzīgs, vajadzīgs tieši tas,
Šie citroni, cukuri, cukāti
Un magoņu, magoņu sēkliņas.

Spicy Cake Songs

There's cinnamon, coffee, ginger
And cardamom, cardamom will do,
It will rule the world, the world
And maybe those, maybe those will be us.

We'll bake a pastry from the world,
We need, need exactly that,
Those lemons, sugars, candied fruit
And poppy seeds, poppy seeds.

You'll sit there, hugging the pastry,
The world, the world will be your table,
But in the world, in the world, in the world
Everything suddenly becomes, suddenly becomes too sweet.

Then the gasoline, diesel will stink
And in your dream, oil will come to you in your dream,
And the world, the world will change
And she will start baking, she will start baking a war.

But the spoons will start to fight over the oil,
Because everything was, everything was too sweet,
And in the coffee cups, only oil
Our table will once experience, experience.

You'll shoot yourself, you'll stab yourself, you'll bomb yourself
For the oil, for the oil, for the oil alone,
To whom this oil belongs to the world,
He will rule, rule the table alone.

And saucers, terrines will fly away
And the beaker, the beaker will fly away,
Back to the old times
Like a wild goose in autumn, in autumn.

Where a cake is still baked from the world,
Because you need, need exactly that,
Those lemons, sugars, candied fruit
And poppy seeds, poppy seeds.