Thidets Yefran - Matoub Lounes перевод на английский

Thidets Yefran

Yemmekta-d wul Sliman
D Si-Muḥ-u-Mḥend yefnan
Negren ur d-ğğin ara
Kul wa anda i s-rkan yeɣsen
Sliman atan iban
Aẓekka ines di lɣerba
Si Muḥ ɣef wayen d-nnan
Wid yecfan neɣ wid yuran
Yenṭel deg Useqqif n Ṭṭmana

Yemmekta-d wul Sliman
D lbaṭel fella-s yeḍran
Yemmut meskin d amengur
D-tasa-w it t-id-ijemεen
Tqeddeḥ igezm-itt waṭṭan
Nnejmeεn daxel-is leğruḥ

D zzit yufraren ɣef waman
Lemtul-is d ayen yeṣfan
Ttejṛa i ten-id-yegren teqqur
Yecna ɣef lɣerba mm lemḥan
Ɣef tmurt-is gezren yiḍan
Yecna ɣef wemɣar d umecṭuḥ

Yerɣa uεerqub isefra
Tirgin ur d-grint ara
Ula d iɣed yeddem-it waḍu
Ass-agi ula d menwala
A k-yini wweḍɣ asigna
Netta acḍaḍ-is yettfuḥ

A Muḥ a Muḥ
Kker ma tt-dduḍ an-ṛuḥ
A Muḥ a Muḥ

Lɣerba tejreḥ ul-iw
Ccah di ṛṛay-iw
Ṛwiɣ anadi n tmura
A ṣṣalḥin n tmurt-iw
Nhut atmaten-iw
A yi-ğğen abrid tura
An-awin s yiɣsan-iw
Cukkeɣ at taddart-iw
Ur d iyi-ttagin ara

Ay afṛux εjel εelli
S idurar n At Yiraten
At Wasif d wat Ɛisi
T-tuddar Iwaḍiyen
Seg Wagni-Ggeɣran εeddi
Inas-en yiwen yiwen
F Sliman Ɛezzem steqsi
Ma d-tidet ayen i d-qqaren

Nnan-as medden yeḥḥerkel
Netta ur yexdim ara
Lemmer yelli ciṭ n leεqel
Yak yecna f lḥuriyya
Imi nukni nedderɣel
Netterra argaz d ccmata
Win i d-yusan ad aɣ-immel
Amek ara teddu tmurt-a

Semman-as medden lmenfi
Ur yenɣi ur yukir yiwen
Wis ma d lirad n Ṛebbi
Neɣ d lεebd i s-tt-icummen
Yenfa-d mebɣir lebɣi
Seg wakal i t-id-yessekren
Temẓi-s tṛuḥ d akeṛfi
Yemmut ur d-iğği imweṛṛten

D aɣrib d abeṛṛani
Di tmura n medden
Lweḥc u lemḥani
Ma d Ṛebbi i-grade

Thidets Yefran

My dear Sliman
Son of Si-Muḥ-u-Mḥend you were stolen
You were stripped of your honor
Everyone who knew you cried
Sliman, your mother's son
Your grave is in a foreign land
Si Muḥ, concerning what people say
Those who steal or those who kill
You were buried in the Pass of Tṭmana

My dear Sliman
You were a good man but you were unlucky
You died poor and alone
They buried you without dignity
They threw stones at your grave
The stars shine on your grave

The olive trees weep for you
Their leaves are dry
The birds that used to sing for you are gone
You died in a foreign land far from your home
You wandered through your country, you were a stranger
You died forgotten and alone

Your grave is overgrown with weeds
The flowers no longer bloom
Even the birds avoid your grave
Today, there is no one to visit you
Oh, my friend, who will remember you?
Your name will be forgotten

Oh Muḥ, oh Muḥ
Come back to me, my friend
Oh Muḥ, oh Muḥ

Exile hurts my heart
I weep for my country
Show me the way to my country
Oh, peacemakers of my country
I am lost
Oh, you who are still alive
Answer me
Leave your homes
Don't abandon me

Oh, my little bird
From the mountains of At Yiraten
From At Wasif and from At Ɛisi
From the villages of Iwaḍiyen
From Wagni-Ggeɣran to εeddi
Ask each one of them
Ask Sliman Ɛezzem
If what they say is true

People say he is a traitor
He is a lazy man
He has no intelligence
He believes in freedom
While we are suffering
We are men and women
Who want to live in peace
How can you destroy our country?

People call him an exile
He is alone and forgotten
Maybe it is God's will
Or maybe he is cursed
He is surrounded by enemies
Who want to kill him
His life is a lie
He will die without honor

He is a stranger in a strange land
Among people he does not know
He is tired and sad
But God is with him