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Gjin begjin

dit is gjin begjin, it sân is langer as ik bin
en ik rin al safolle langer as dizze dei mei
wat ik tsjin dy sizze sil dan, bliuw mar net
de iensumens tikket as in klok yn myn holle
en dyn hert fleant as in luchtballon op my ta

dit is gjin begjin, de trein giet om trije oere
middeis as de loft krekt yn hjerst ferkleuret
en ik myn spoeken fan doe wer útdreaun ha
bliuw mar net, leafde is fier strân, in mis wurd
en dyn hert dûnset as in kerrel yn myn mûle

dit is gjin begjin, ik bin net yn ’e trein stapt
de wurden lizze op myn rêch, ik sykje om dy
bliuw mar net, allinne wêze is in rare tekken
fan sjonge om neat en springe yn ’e fjilden
en dyn hert streamt as rein yn myn eagen

dit is gjin begjin, de see kin ik sa úttekenje
as blau, mar hoefolle streamen wienen it net
de fjoertoer knikt my altyd ta en ik wit wol
bliuw mar net, de rein hat smelle hannen hjir
en dyn hert springt as in fonk yn myn fingers

dit is gjin begjin, de taal is dermei opholden
hoe sil ik it noch oanklaaie, de dize lûkt oan my
bliuw mar net, dit liif is in lang ferhaal om let
hjir lis ik, ik sjong wat foar my út, ik wachtsje
en dyn hert raant as in stien yn myn hert

Lyrics: Albertina Soepboer Music: Theo Nijland English translation: Susan Massotty

De Maisfrou

De Maisfrou, 2006

Translation

This is not a start

this is not a start, the sand is longer than I am
and I’ve walked around much longer than today
with what I have to say to you, so don’t stay
the loneliness ticks in my head like a clock
and your heart soars up to me like a hot-air balloon

this is not a start, the train will leave at three
in the afternoon as the sky fades into fall
and I’ve cast out the ghosts of my past again
so don’t stay, love is a distant shore, a wrong word
and your heart dances like a grain of sand in my mouth

this is not a start, I didn’t get on the train
the words weigh me down, you’re the reason I search
so don’t stay, being alone is a strange patchwork
of singing about nothing and frolicking in fields
and your heart pours into my eyes like rain

this is not a start, I can paint the sea
blue, but how many rivers were there
the lighthouse nods at me and I understand
so don’t stay, the rain has slender hands here
and your heart flies into my fingers like a spark

this is not a start, language has given up the ghost
how shall I flesh it out, the fog snatches at me
so don’t stay, my body is at last a long story
I lie here, singing to pass the time as I wait
and your heart melts like a stone in my heart

Beammen-yn-wetter.jpg
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