Текст и перевод песни Raimonds Pauls feat. Nora Bumbiere & Viktors Lapčenoks - Dzied Suitu Sievas Alsungā

Dzied Suitu Sievas Alsungā

Cik zirņu pieder Dievam,
Tik dziesmu suitu sievām,
Jel, ēdiet labie ļaudis,
Vai mums ir kādreiz skaudis.

Un suitu meitas smietin,
Un suitu meitas dietin,
Pa bālam Rīgas zēnam
Vēl šodien brunčos ietin.

Un Alsungā dimd zvani,
Un avis gana gani,
Bet meičas, puišu kāras,
Kā senāk putru vāra.

Bur, zavē, iespļauj indi,
Plūc rozā hiacinti,
Vēl dienā tīrā skuķe
Jau naktī plaukst kā puķe.

Zog vecai mātei sakti
Un mežā bēg pa nakti,
Un guļ zem puiša bārdas,
Kaut nezin viņa vārda.

No rīta, kas par joku,
Viņš lūdz jau manu roku,
Vēl vakar ziedu lejā,
Jau šodien kancelejā.

Tik villainē man rūtes,
Tik reizes biju brūte,
Cik suitu saktīs stikla,
Vai tik reiz biji tikla.

Iet laiks, bet nerimst aukas,
Un es vēl tīri jauka,
Ar manu bārdu jauku,
Tā tagad grīdu slauka.

Vai zirņu pietrūks Dievam,
Vai dziesmu suitu sievām,
Cik grūti nopirkt zuti,
Tik sievām aizbāzt muti.

Ja svilst dēļ dziesmām ausis,
Klāj priekšā sklandarausi,
Bet labāk tomēr smejiet,
Kad cauri suitiem ejiet.

Altitudes of Suitu's Wives in Alsunga

How many grains of corn God owns,
That many songs Suitu's wives have,
You, esteemed folks, enjoy your meal,
We haven't begrudged you any.

And Suitu's daughters jest,
And Suitu's daughters diet,
For that pale lad from Riga
Even today brunches are wrapped.

And in Alsunga bells are chiming,
And the shepherds tend their sheep,
But wenches, eager for men,
Still brew porridge as of yore.

They enchant, they bespeak, they spit poison,
They pluck pale hyacinths,
A cheerful lass in the daylight
At night already blooms as a flower.

They steal the words from the old mother
And run in the wood at night,
And sleep in the guy's beard
Even though they don't know his name.

Oh, what a joke in the morning,
He's already begging for my hand,
Yesterday he laid flowers down,
Today he's already at the registry office.

Let rue grow for me, my dear,
I've been a bride so many times,
As the Suitu's used to voice glasses,
Whether I've ever been respectable.

Time is passing, but the string never runs out,
And I'm still pretty enough,
With my glorious beard,
Now it sweeps the floor.

Will God run of grains,
Will Suitu's wives run of songs,
It's difficult to buy a whiting,
It's impossible to shut women's mouths.

If your ears whistle from the songs,
Lay down some pancakes,
But better laugh anyway,
When you pass by our Suitu's.