Текст и перевод песни Glaukoma feat. Stepi Selektah - Not Paradise (feat. Stepi Selektah)

Not Paradise (feat. Stepi Selektah)

Esaldi bakoitzaren atzean zenbat pena friend?
Zenbat garaipen? Zenbat aldarrikapen? Zenbat frakaso?
Bizitzan lez, fresko eta sarkor
Izan nahi badek, sektore hontan eman eta jaso.
Arbaso zaharren ohitura batzuk mantenduz,
Minari garrantzia kenduz,
Hustutzen dizkiagu makina baso.
Itsaso bat zerbezak gauetan laguntzen du,
Beti kontzertuz kontzertu heldutasunari eraso.

Mina ematen du, pozoia begietara.
Aitzakiarik okerrena funtsa mozkortzea bada,
Ez da ez zure farlopa, ez nire kopa beharra,
Okerrena da San Juan desfile militarra.
Arbaso zaharren ohitura batzuk baztertuz,
Tentuz, ez dut hau aurkeztu zure eztula eragiteko.
Ez da min ematearren, baino eske friend
Nik ez det eskopeta bat behar juerga botatzeko.
Ezker, eskubi! Left, right! Tximuen antzeko.
Ez da martxa militarrik ni ohetik jaikitzeko.
Hi, eskopetero, entzuten ari haizenez gero:
Guk hire San Juan eguna botatzen diagu larunbatero.

We are not in paradise, eta izarrak ez dira ikusten.
Original Stepi playing for the youths them.
Hautsak harrotuz eta polemika biluzten,
Moskun ohitura txarrei ez zaie tokirik uzten.

Ez dala fala, danak gabiltzala
Bakoitzak ahal duen ahala.
Kapitalaren egurrak plastikozko ezpala.
Aukeratu badaezpada Yaveh edo Alá
Eta goikoak salba zaitzala.

Ez da broma. Karkomak jota,
Lotan, koman zentzu ona.
Gerra eta gosea itsutasun sintomak:
Garden ikusten uzten ez duen Glaukoma.

Them tell you what to think,
Them tell you what to say,
Them tell you what to drink,
Them tell you what to pray.
Dancehall in my town for the young thinking ways,
You won't stop the riddim, selektahri egin dei!

We are not in paradise... x2

This is Babylon: "Jainkoa eta Lege Zaharra".
Too much kontraesan, too much aitzakiadun farra.
Txikitu musikaz tradizioaren hatzaparrak.
Big up! Big up! Moskutik Tolosara!

Bala bat gordeta daukat puritanismoarentzako.
Kabala ba haiz ez ezak bilatu,
Hemen mezurik ez dago.
Errima berri bat erditzera gatoz
Klitxeetatik haratago.
Ez gangstak, ez rastak, esano ozenago!

Bala bi gordeta zuri: aurreiritzidun ultrari.
Guri berdin zure herria,
Ez diogu begiratzen jatorriari.
Mundu honetan ardi beltzak,
Zuk bezala, esnea txuri.
Downpressor man, get out of my country!

We are not in paradise... x2

Not Paradise (feat. Stepi Selektah)

How much sorrow behind each of your jokes, my friend?
How many victories? How many proclamations? How many failures?
Like life, fresh and sarcastic
If you want to be, give and take in this sector.
Maintaining some of the habits of our old ancestors,
Ignoring the pain,
We clear forests with our machines.
A sea of beer helps at night,
Always attacking maturity from concert to concert.

It hurts, the poison in your eyes.
If the worst excuse is to cut off the source,
It's not your crack, nor is it my cup that's needed,
The worst thing is the military parade of San Juan.
Putting aside some of the habits of our old ancestors,
Careful, I don't present this to provoke your cough.
It's not to hurt you, but I ask, my friend,
I don't need a gun to have fun.
Left, right! Left, right! Like monkeys.
No military march can get me out of bed.
Hey, you with the gun, since you're listening:
We hold our own San Juan festival every Saturday.

We are not in paradise, and the stars are not visible.
Original Stepi playing for the youths them.
Stirring up dust and exposing controversy,
There is no room for bad habits in Moscow.

Let's not talk about it, we're all in this
Each one of us as best we can.
Capital's wood, plastic sword.
Choose between Yahweh or Allah if you must
And may the one above save you.

This is no joke. We're all drunk,
Asleep, in a coma, common sense.
War and hunger are symptoms of blindness:
Glaucoma that doesn't let you see clearly.

Them tell you what to think,
Them tell you what to say,
Them tell you what to drink,
Them tell you what to pray.
Dancehall in my town for the young thinking ways,
You won't stop the riddim, selektahri egin dei!

We are not in paradise... x2

This is Babylon: "God and the Old Law".
Too much contradictions, too many excuses for a party.
Break the chains of tradition with music.
Big up! Big up! From Moscow to Tolosa!

I have a bullet saved for puritanism.
If you're a Kabbalah, don't look for it,
There is no measure here.
We come to give birth to a new rhyme
Beyond clichés.
Not gangstas, not rastafarians, say it louder!

Two bullets saved for you: the prejudiced ultra.
Your country is the same to us,
We don't look at its origin.
Black sheep in this world,
You, like milk, white.
Downpressor man, get out of my country!

We are not in paradise... x2