Paroles et traduction Sima Martausová - 8:30

8:30

O 8. hodine ráno
Ešte v posteli som
Otvorila okno,
Myšlienkam, čo nechceli,
Vypariť sa z hlavy,
Taktiež kvôli vzduchu,
Ktorý práve prehodnotil
úsudky mi, či sú ešte stále zdravé.
Oči som pretrela si
Uterákom z Billy,
čo sme ešte včera
V Námestove kúpili,
Akoby mi moje šťastie
Tenké ľady nosili.
Ach, prečo človek je tvor slabý,
Ale rozumný
A prečo ten, čo má rád husle,
Hráva na bubny?
A prečo ten, čo má rád toho
Spolu nebudú?
Keď si to nepovedia,
Aj tak duše ostanú im bez kľudu.
Už sme sa naučili
Robiť pózy strnulé.
Kupovať slivky,
Aj keď milujeme marhule.
Byť až príliš dokonalí.
Byť až príliš dokonalí,
Hoci práve na chybách
Sme v lepších ľudí vyrastali.
Hľadala som dlho pocit,
Taký, čo ma omámi,
Nebol v kvapkách alkoholu,
čo čašník nalial mi,
Nebol v mojej nepokore
Ani v očiach hľadiac hore.
Ach, prečo človek je tvor slabý,
Ale rozumný
A prečo ten, čo má rád husle,
Hráva na bubny?
A prečo ten, čo má rád toho
Spolu nebudú?
Keď si to nepovedia,
Aj tak duše ostanú im bez kľudu.
Zistila som, že len tam,
Kde prinášame obety,
Hľadala som v rôznych knihách,
V medailónoch od tety.
Hľadala som pravdu,
Ale ona si ma našla prvá.
Pri prechádzke popri rieke
Zistila som zásadné,
že ovocie nie je chutné,
Ak pri sianí nepadne
Na úrodnú pôdu.
O 8: 30 ráno som si dala iba vodu
S tým, že som si prisľúbila,
že nebudem iba hlinou.
Ticho, mi bude nápoj väčší
Ako pohár s vínom.

8:30

At 8 o'clock in the morning
I'm still in bed
I opened the window,
To thoughts that didn't want to
Evaporate from my head,
Also for the air,
Which has just reconsidered
My judgment of whether It's still sane.
I wiped my eyes
With a towel from Billy,
That we bought yesterday
In Námestove,
As if my happiness
Carried me on thin ice.
Oh, why is man a weak creature,
But rational
And why does he who loves the violin,
Play the drums?
And why do those who love each other
Not be together?
When they don't say it,
Their souls will still be restless.
We have already learned
To make rigid poses.
To buy prunes,
Even though we love apricots.
To be too perfect.
To be too perfect,
Although It is precisely on mistakes
That we have grown into better people.
I searched for a long time for a feeling,
One that would intoxicate me,
It wasn't in the drops of alcohol,
That the waiter poured me,
It wasn't in my rebelliousness
Nor in my eyes looking up.
Oh, why is man a weak creature,
But rational
And why does he who loves the violin,
Play the drums?
And why do those who love each other
Not be together?
When they don't say it,
Their souls will still be restless.
I found out that only there,
Where we make sacrifices,
I searched in various books,
In medallions from my aunt.
I was looking for the truth,
But she found me first.
On a walk along the river
I found out something fundamental,
That fruit is not tasty,
If it does not fall on
Fertile ground.
At 8:30 in the morning I only had water
With the promise to myself,
That I will not be just clay.
Silence, will be a stronger drink
Than a glass of wine.