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Un petit garcon reve de devenir un oiseau.Une collection de films d'animation réalisés par Elizaveta Skvortsova
Le titre c'est "Oyfn veg". Voici les paroles :
Oyfn veg shteyt a boym,
Ayngeboygn,...
Feygl funem boym
Zaynen tsefloygn.
Dray keyn mayrev,
dray keyn mizrekh,
Un der resht - keyn dorem,
Un der boym gelozt aleyn
Hefker far dem shturem.
Zog tsu mamen :
Zolst mir nor nit shtern ;
Vel ikh, mame, eyns, tsvey
Bald a foygl vern…
Zitsn oyfn boym
Un vel farvign
Iber' vinter mit a treyst,
Mit a sheynem nign.
Yam tari raram, hay tari raram
Hay tari raram, hay tariram
Yam tari raram, hay tari raram
Hay tari rariram.
3. - Un dos vinter-laybl,
Tu, du shoyte,
Oyb du zayn keyn gast
Tsvishn al' toyte…
Kh'heyb di fligl, s'iz mir shver,
fil, tsu fil zakhn,
Hot di mame in geton
Ir feygele shvakhn.
2. Zogt di mame : - nit', kind -
Veynt mit trern -
'Lile oyfn boym
Farfroyrn vern.
Zog ikh : - mame, s'iz a shod
Dayne sheyne oygn,
Eyder vos un eyder ven,
Bin ikh mir a foygl.
Veynt di mame :
Ze, um gotes viln,
Nem mit a shalikl,
Kenst zikh nokh farkiln.
Kaloshn zikh on,
S'geyt sharfer vinter
Un di kutshme nem oykh mit -
Vey iz mir un vind mir…
Yam tari raram…
Kuk mir arayn
In mayn mames oygn,
S'hot ir nit gelozt
Vern mir a foygl…
Oyfn veg a boym
Shteyt ayngeboygn,
Ale feygl funem boym
Zaynen zikh tsefloygn…
Yam tari raram…
Traduction en anglais:
By the wayside stands a bent tree;
All the birds have flown away,
And the tree stands deserted.... Afficher davantage
Turn toward the west, turn toward the east,
And the rest--turn toward the south,And the tree is abandoned to the storm.
I say to momma--"Listen,
If you don't stand in my way,
Then, one--two,
I'll quickly become a bird.
I'll sit in the tree
And lull it during the winter and comfort it
With a lovely tune."
And momma says, "No, child,"
And weeps bitter tears.
"G-d forbid, you might freeze in the tree."
So I say, "Momma, it's a waste of your lovely eyes,
Because before you know it,
I'll be a bird."
And momma cries, and says "Itzik, my Crown,
As G-d would want, take a scarf with you,
Lest you catch cold.
"Put on your galoshes,
It will be a severe winter.
And take your fur hat, too.
Woe is me!
"And wear you warm underwear, foolish child,
Lest you become a guest of the dead."
I lift my wing, but it's hard...
Too many things, too many things
Has momma put on her weak little fledgling.
I look sadly into my momma's eyes;
Her love did not allow me to become a bird.
By the wayside stands a bent tree.
All the birds have flown away,
And the tree stands deserted.
