Текст и перевод песни Austria 3 - Alte Helden (Live)

Alte Helden (Live)

A klana Bua sagt
Er mecht amol genauso wia sei Vater werdn
Er tramt von ana Uniform
Und Marschmusik - de hört er halt so gern!

In ana altn Schachtl find' er Fotos
Ganz vergilbt und voller Staub
Und nebn dem Kamin hängt an der Wand
A Ritterkreuz mit Eichenlaub

Da Vater glänzt vor Stolz
Und er sagt das alles anders gwesn is
A Krieg is ka Verbrechn
Weil es san halt manche Mensch feig und mies

Was euch heut fehlt, is strenge Disziplin
Und starke Männer, die euch führn
Dann schaut er ume zum Kamin und mant
Es müssat irgendwas passiern

Da Bua wird älter mit der Zeit
Und unaufhaltsam arbeits in sein Hirn
Sei Vater war amol a Held
Und er sollt es halt wenigstens probiern

Es gibt ja kane Männer mehr die kämpfn können
Für ihr Vaterland
Er möcht sei armes Volk vom Schmutz befrein
Mit schware Kettn in da Hand

Er bleibt net lang allanich
Seine Freund de denkn ganz genau wie er
Für Heimatland und reines Bluat
Fallns wia varruckt üba die Tschuschn her

Jetzt hat er Kettn an die Händ
Sein Vater, den vafluacht er tausendmal
Und von de altn Heldn will er nix mehr wissn
An für alle Mal

Old Heroes (Live)

A klana Bua says
He'd like to be just like his father someday
He dreams of a uniform
And marching music - that's what he likes to hear!

In an old box he finds photos
All yellowed and full of dust
And next to the fireplace hangs on the wall
A Knight's Cross with Oak Leaves

The father shines with pride
And he says it was all different
A war is no crime
Because there are some people who are cowardly and mean

What you lack today is strict discipline
And strong men to lead you
Then he looks around the fireplace and says
Something has to happen

The boy gets older with time
And unstoppably burrows into his brain
His father was once a hero
And he should at least try

There are no more men who can fight
For their fatherland
He wants to free his poor people from the dirt
With heavy chains in his hand

He doesn't stay alone for long
His friends think exactly like him
For homeland and pure blood
They fall like crazy over the Tschuschn

Now he has chains on his hands
His father, he curses a thousand times
And of the old heroes he wants to know nothing more
Once and for all