Текст и перевод песни Raimonds Pauls feat. Viktors Lapčenoks & Nora Bumbiere - 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.

Sing, Wives of the Suiti in Alsunga

As many peas belong to God,
As many songs to Suiti women,
Good people, come and eat,
Have we ever been envious.

And Suiti girls laugh,
And Suiti girls get angry,
At the pale Riga boy
We still wrap brunches today.

And in Alsunga the bells ring out,
And the sheep are herded by shepherds,
But the maidens, longing for the boys,
Cook porridge as before.

Cast spells, spit venom,
Pluck pink hyacinths,
Still a pure blush during the day
Blossoms like a flower at night.

Steal a word from the old mother
And run into the forest at night,
And sleep under the boy's beard,
Although she does not know his name.

In the morning, what a joke,
He already asks for my hand,
Only yesterday he was picking flowers below,
Today already in the chancellery.

Only the rue hurts me,
So many times have I been a bride,
As many glasses as the Suitis will say,
Have you only been caught once.

Time goes by, but the strings do not stop,
And I'm still quite pretty,
With my beard, I'm so handsome,
That I now sweep the floor.

Will peas run out for God,
Or songs for Suiti women,
How hard it is to buy a stocking,
Only to shut the women's mouths.

If your ears ring because of the songs,
Spread out a handkerchief,
But rather laugh,
When you pass through the Suiti.