Текст и перевод песни Bap - Verjess Babylon

Verjess Babylon

Er hatt die janze Woch jearbeid, pausenlos,
Daach un Naach, un jrandios
Sich all die Bäum un Bloome övverlaat
Un Land un Meer un Birch jemaat.

Er hatt die Sonn huh bovve fessmontiert
Un jääjenövver Mohnd un Stään fixiert,
Die janze Diere hat e′ enn zwei Daach paratjemaat
Un ohne Lieferschwierigkeite ahn dä Start jebraat.

Dann, ahm sechste Daach, do saat e' sich: "Jenau!
Jetz fählt nur noch Mann un Frau."
Mann jing flöck, dat met dä Ripp wohr kompliziert,
Joot jejange, nix passiert.

Jetz looch dä Herrjott völlig fäädisch enn däm Himmelbett
Un kunnt nit schloofe, weil e′ spüre däät: Do fählt noch jet.
Er hätt sich hin un herjewälz, ävver e' kohm nit drop,
Bess dat dä Hahn jekräht, denn drusse jing die Sonn ald op.

"Ja, klar, 'ne Hahn kräht, die Koh määt Muh,
Un dä Hungk, dä bellt dozo.
En Katz miaut, der Löwe brüllt,
Wenn ens jet nit läuf wie bestellt.

Jesses nä, die Minsche hann jo noch kein Sprooch!
Da′ ′ss mer irj'ndwie durchjejange letzte Woch!"
Also nix wie russ uss singem wärme Bett,
Sechs Uhr, wie e′ zo sich säät:

"Verjess Babylon un dat met däm Turm.
Jed Land kritt en Sprooch, ein wöhr nit jenooch.
Verjess Babylon, Hillije Jeist un Jottes Sohn.
Ejal wat et koss, noch benn ich dä Boss!"

Also em Tiefflooch noch ens flöck enn jede Kontinent,
Wobei e' ungerwähß sujar e′ Veedelstündche pennt,
Weil dissmohl, Jott sei Dank un Miles & More,
E' Upgrade enn die Business-Class drin wohr.

Su krääte Eskimos un Inkas dat,
Wodrop se schon ihr Levve lang jewaat.
Die Chinese wollte ′n Sprooch, die ohne "R" usskütt
Un die jeschrivve revolutionär usssieht.

Kisuaheli, Jamaikanisch un Sanskrit,
Sprooche, die mer nur 'm Himalaya versteht,
Och Hebräisch, Schwizerdütsch, sujar Latein,
Un ein für die enn Bahrain.

"Verjess Babylon un dat met däm Turm.
Jed Land kritt en Sprooch, ein wöhr nit jenooch.
Verjess Babylon, Hillije Jeist un Jottes Sohn.
Ejal wat et koss, noch benn ich dä Boss!"

Dä "Tatort" leef ald, als dä Chef övver die Alpe kohm
Un sich paar Type enn 'ner Ledderbozz vüürnohm.
Donoh die Hesse un die Sachse un et Schwabenland,
Dann die Berliner un die Feschköpp vun der Waterkant.

Nur für Hannover feel ihm nix Besondres enn,
Un Düsseldorf maat suwiesu jar keine Senn.
Un als e′ selver zwei Minute vüür dä Jeisterstund
Duudmööd kaum noch schwaade kunnt,

Troof e′ zwesche Clodwigplatz un Sev'rinsbröck
Noch paar janz seltsame Lück,
Die ahm Schunkle wohre, stumm un stillverjnöösch,
Met Pappnase em Jeseech:

"So, Lück, wesst ihr wat? Ich hann et jetz satt,
Ich kann ech nimieh, mir deit alles wieh!
Sibbe Daach Akkord, sujet jrenz ahn Mord.
Wiesu sprecht Ihr eijentlich nit einfach wie ich?

Verjess Babylon, Hillije Jeist un Jottes Sohn.
Ejal wat et koss, noch benn ich dä Boss!"

Forget Babylon

He's been working all week, non-stop,
Day and night, and grandiosely
He created all the trees and flowers
And land and sea and mountains made.

He mounted the sun high above
And fixed the moon and stars in place,
He made all the animals ready in two days
And launched them without delivery problems.

Then, on the sixth day, he said to himself: "Exactly!
Now all that's missing is man and woman."
Man went quickly, the thing with the rib was complicated,
It went well, nothing happened.

Now the Lord lay completely exhausted in his heavenly bed
And couldn't sleep because he felt: Something was missing.
He tossed and turned, but he couldn't figure it out,
Until the rooster crowed, then the sun was already rising outside.

"Yes, of course, a rooster crows, the cow moos,
And the dog barks along with it.
A cat meows, the lion roars,
When something doesn't go as planned.

Jesus, the people don't have a language yet!
Somehow I missed that last week!"
So nothing like rushing out of his warm bed,
Six o'clock, as he says to himself:

"Forget Babylon and the thing with the tower.
Every country gets a language, one wouldn't be enough.
Forget Babylon, Holy Spirit and Son of God.
No matter what it costs, I'm still the boss!"

So in a low-flying flight once again quickly to every continent,
Whereby he certainly even slept for a quarter of an hour,
Because this time, thank God and Miles & More,
He had an upgrade to business class.

So Eskimos and Incas got that,
What they had been waiting for all their lives.
The Chinese wanted a language without an "R"
And one that looks revolutionary in writing.

Swahili, Jamaican and Sanskrit,
Languages that are only understood in the Himalayas,
Also Hebrew, Swiss German, even Latin,
And one for those in Bahrain.

"Forget Babylon and the thing with the tower.
Every country gets a language, one wouldn't be enough.
Forget Babylon, Holy Spirit and Son of God.
No matter what it costs, I'm still the boss!"

The "Tatort" was already running when the boss came over the Alps
And took care of a few guys in a lederhosen.
Then the Hessians and the Saxons and the Swabian land,
Then the Berliners and the stubborn people from the water's edge.

Only for Hanover he didn't feel anything special,
And Düsseldorf makes no sense anyway.
And when he himself two minutes before the witching hour
Dead tired could hardly speak anymore,

He met between Clodwigplatz and Severinsbrücke
A few very strange people,
Who were swaying, silent and content,
With a paper nose on their face:

"So, folks, you know what? I've had enough,
I can't take it anymore, everything hurts!
Seven days of agreement, the subject borders on murder.
Why don't you just speak like me?

Forget Babylon, Holy Spirit and Son of God.
No matter what it costs, I'm still the boss!"