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Odes

Moya Tsiganskaya

Song by Vladimir Vysotsky. This song is not a gypsy song but an ode to the gypsies and the tough life that I really like and want to share with you. Enjoy!

Moya Tsiganskaya

V son mne zheltyye ogni
I khriplyu vo sne ya
Povremeni, povremeni
Utro mudreneye
No, i utrom vse ne tak
Net togo vesel’ya
Ili kurish’ na toshchak,
Ili p’yesh’ s pokhmel’ya

Ekh, raz, da yeshche raz
da yeshche mnogo-mnogo mnogo raz.

V kabakakh zelenyy shtof
I belyye salfetki
Ray dlya nishchikh i shutov
Mne zh kak ptitse v kletke
V tserkvi smrad i polumrak
D’yaki kuryat ladan,
Net, i v tserkvi vse ne tak
Vse ne tak kak nado

Ekh, raz, da yeshche raz
da yeshche mnogo-mnogo mnogo raz.

YA — na goru vpopykhakh,
Chtob chego ne vyshlo.
A na gore stoit ol’kha,
A pod goroyu — vishnya.
Khot’ by sklon uvit’ plyushchom —
Mne b i to otrada.
Ekh! Khot’ by chto-nibud’ yeshcho…
Vso ne tak, kak nado!

Ekh, raz, da yeshche raz
da yeshche mnogo-mnogo mnogo raz.

YA togda — po polyu vdol’ reki:
Sveta — t’ma, net Boga!
A v chistom pole — vasil’ki,
I dal’nyaya doroga.
Vdol’ dorogi — les gustoy
S babami-yagami,
A v kontse dorogi toy —
Plakha s toporami.

Ekh, raz, da yeshche raz
da yeshche mnogo-mnogo mnogo raz.

Gde-to koni plyashut v takt,
Nekhotya i plavno.
Vdol’… vdol’ dorogi vso ne tak,
A v kontse — podavno.
I ni tserkov’, i ni kabak —
Nichego ne svyato!
Net, rebyata, vso ne tak!
Vso ne tak, rebyata…

Ekh, raz, da yeshche raz
da yeshche mnogo-mnogo mnogo raz.

Translation:
In my dream – yellow lights,
wheezing in my sleep;
a while longer, a whole longer,
In the morning I’ll be fine!

But in the morning everything’s wrong,
The joy is gone;
Either you smoke on an empty stomach,
Or you quench a hangover.

Hey one, yes
once again;
Hey one, yes
many-many more times…

In the bars; green tablecloths
And white napkins.
Heaven for the poor and slobs,
But for me – like a bird in a cage!

In the church; stench and gloom,
Preachers burning incense.
No! Even in church everything’s wrong,
Not as it should be.

To the mountain I rush,
So that something there might be,
On the mountain stands an alder,
While below a cherry tree;
If only there were ivy on the slope;
I’d get some joy from it,
If only anything else;
It’s not as it should be.

Hey one, yes
once again;
Hey one, yes
many-many more times…

Then to the field I go,
along the river bank;
Some light, some darkness – but no God!
While in the pure field;
there are cornflowers and a distant road.
Along the road there’s a deep forest
With Baba-Yaga witches;
And at the road’s end;
Chopping blocks and axes.

Somewhere the stallions dance in tune,
Unhurried and easy.
Along the road everything is wrong,
But at the end; completely.

Neither in church nor the in the bar-
Nothing is held holy!
No, my friends; everything’s wrong,
Everything’s wrong, my friends!

Hey one, yes
once again;
Hey one, yes
many-many more times…

Seven gypsies

A traditional 18th century scottish folk somg that originated in the dumfries area of western scotland. There are many varations of this tale with different tunes and verses. Performed here by FullSet

Seven Gypsies
Seven gypsies all of a row
they sang sweet and bonny oh
they sang so neat and so complete
that they stole the heart of a lady oh

She kicked off her high heeled shoes
made of spanish leather oh
then she put on a pair of brogues
and followed the seven gypsies oh

Late that night the lord came home
inquiring for his lady oh
the servant fell upon his knees
she`s away with the seven gypsies oh

Fetch for me my fine white steed
saddle up my pony oh
for i will ride and seek my bride
who`s away with the seven gypsies oh

He rode over high high hills
until he came to morning oh
and then he saw his own dear wife
in the arms of the seven gypsies oh

Last night i slept in my own feather bed
with blankets wrapped around me oh
but tonight i slept in an open field
in the arms of the seven gypsies oh

Seven gypsies all of a row
they sang sweet and bonny oh
they sang so sweet that they got hanged
for the stealing of a famous lady oh

 

Khorakhane

“Khorakhané” (literally: “Lovers of the Koran”) are a tribe of Muslim rom Serbian-Montenegrin origin.
Lyrics and music by Fabrizio De André and Ivano Fossati. The video is taken from Django Reinhardt expanded film ‘A little sun’ by Nino Bizzarri.
The final verse in romanes  are Giorgio Bezzecchi, “Harvie rom” (Croatian).

Khorakhane
Il cuore rallenta la testa cammina
in quel pozzo di piscio e cemento
a quel campo strappato dal vento
a forza di essere vento

porto il nome di tutti i battesimi
ogni nome il sigillo di un lasciapassare
per un guado una terra una nuvola un canto
un diamante nascosto nel pane

per un solo dolcissimo umore del sangue
per la stessa ragione del viaggio viaggiare
Il cuore rallenta e la testa cammina
in un buio di giostre in disuso

qualche rom si é fermato italiano
come un rame a imbrunire su un muro
saper leggere il libro del mondo
con parole cangianti e nessuna scrittura

nei sentieri costretti in un palmo di mano
i segreti che fanno paura
finché un uomo ti incontra e non si riconosce
e ogni terra si accende e si arrende la pace

i figli cadevano dal calendario
Yugoslavia Polonia Ungheria
i soldati prendevano tutti
e tutti buttavano via

e poi Mirka a San Giorgio di maggio
tra le fiamme dei fiori a ridere a bere
e un sollievo di lacrime a invadere gli occhi
agli occhi cadere

ora alzatevi spose bambine
che é venuto il tempo di andare
con le vene celesti dei polsi
anche oggi si va a caritare

e se questo vuol dire rubare
questo filo di pane tra miseria e sfortuna
allo specchio di questa kampina
ai miei occhi limpidi come un addio

lo puó dire soltanto chi sa di raccogliere in bocca
il punto di vista di Dio

———————————–

Čvava sero po tute
i kerava
jek sano ot mori
i taha jek jak kon kašta
vašu ti baro nebo
avi ker.

kon ovla so mutavla
kon ovla
ovla kon aščovi
me ğava palan ladi
me ğava
palan bura ot croiuti.

Translation
The hearbeats slow down, the head walks on
in that poddle of piss and concrete
in that field blown by the wind
by dint of being the wind

I bear the name of all baptisms
each name the seal of a pass
for a ford, a country, a cloud, a song
a diamond hidden in bread
but for one humour in blood so sweet
for the same reason to travel, travelling

The heartbeats slow down, the head walks on
in the dark of forlorn swings
some gypsies stopped and became Italian
like copper hung to get brown on a wall

Being able to read the book of the world
with everchanging words and no writing
on the narrow paths in the palm of a hand
those frightening secrets
until a man meets you and won’t know himself anymore
and every country lights up and peace surrenders

Sons would fall from the calendar
Yugoslavia, Poland, Hungary
soldiers would take them all
and all they threw away

And then Mirka at St. Georges in May *
between the flowers flames, with laughs and drinks
a relief in tears flooding the eyes
and from the eyes falling down

Now rise you childbrides
the time has come to go
blue veins on your wrists
another day for begging

And if this means stealing
a scanty bread out of poverty and misfortunes
on the mirror of this kampina **
to my eyes, clear as a farewell
that can only tell who’s got in his mouth
God’s point of view

—————————-

I’ll lay my head on your shoulder
and I’ll will dream of the sea
and tomorrow a wood fire
so that the light blue air
become home

Who’ll be there to tell
who’ll be
It will be who stays on
I’ll follow this migration
I’ll follow this wings stream

  • Information, video & lyrics from Emanuele Ricciardi

Mochnatiy Shmyel

Song from the film ‘A cruel romance’ performed by Nikita Mikhalkov.

Mochnatiy Shmyel

Mokhnatyy shmel’ – na dushistyy khmel’,
Tsaplya seraya – v kamyshi,
A tsyganskaya doch’ – za lyubimym v noch’,
Po rodstvu brodyazh’ey dushi.

Tak vpered – za tsyganskoy zvezdoy kochevoy,-
Na zakat, gde drozhat parusa,
I glaza glyadyat s bespriyutnoy toskoy
V bagroveyushchie nebesa.

I vdvoem po trope – navstrechu sud’be,
Ne gadaya, v ad ili v ray.
Tak i nado idti, ne strashas’ puti,
Khot’ na kray zemli, khot’ za kray.

Tak vpered za tsyganskoy zvezdoy kochevoy,
Na svidan’e s zarey, na vostok,
Gde, tikha i nezhna, rozoveet volna,
Na rassvetnyy vpolzaya pesok!

Tak vpered za tsyganskoy zvezdoy kochevoy,-
Do revushchikh yuzhnykh shirot,
Gde svirepaya burya, kak bozh’ya metla,
Okeanskuyu pyl’ metet!

Tak vpered – za tsyganskoy zvezdoy kochevoy,-
Na zakat, gde drozhat parusa,
I glaza glyadyat s bespriyutnoy toskoy
V bagroveyushchie nebesa!

A hairy bumble bee (Translation)
A hairy bumble bee – on the aromatic hops,
A grey Heron – in the reeds,
But a gypsy’s daughter – for her beloved, to the night
By kinship of a wondering soul.

So go ahead, after the gypsy’s nomadic star,
To the sunset, where the sails tremble,
And eyes look on with homeless longing
To the erubescent heaven!

And the two of us on the path toward destiny
Not guessing – to hell or to heaven,
So we should go, without fear of the journey
Be it to the edge of the earth, even over the edge.

So go ahead, after the gypsy’s nomadic star,
To the rendezvous at dawn, to the east,
Where, quietly and tenderly, the waves turn pink
At dawn crawling over the sand!

So go ahead, after the gypsy’s nomadic star,
Before the roaring southern latitudes,
Where a fierce storm, like a God’s broom,
Sweeps the ocean’s dust!

So go ahead, after the gypsy’s nomadic star,
To the sunset, where the sails tremble,
And eyes look on with homeless longing
To the erubescent heaven!

  • Translation by Olga Formalnova

Ciganka Sam Mala

Song performed by Silvana Armenulic

Ciganka Sam Mala
Ciganka sam mala
oci moje gore,
igram, pevam pesme
celu noc do zore.

ja sam mala garava
crna tvoja ciganka,
samo mala garava
crna tvoja ciganka

Kad mi usne ljubis
zaboravljam tugu,
srce hoce jedno
razum trazu drugu.

ja sam mala garava
crna tvoja ciganka,
samo mala garava
crna tvoja ciganka

Da si moje oci
ti ranije sreo,
postao bi momak
za svoj zivot ceo.

ja sam mala garava
crna tvoja ciganka,
samo mala garava
crna tvoja ciganka

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