I do not think I could make this a regular feature, but possibly an irregular one – some random snippets from the Slavophone world whenever I notice something interesting – be it art, traditions, languages, politics. Let me know if you would be interested.
I instantly fell in love this song (and some others from this band). It is so cheery and silly. And I love violin.
And yes, the text is silly, although my Russian is not so good so I could understand it all instantly. But I was able to parse some and with help of online translators translate the first half for you. Unfortunately I cannot translate all, because translating it into English was not only much more time consuming than I expected it to be – but above all I started hiting on phrases that are probably Russian idioms whose meaning I do not know. Being able to understand the gist of something and translating it into another language is not the same thing I am afraid.
I ain’t no poet in addition to my rusty Russian, so take the translation with a grain of salt. The Skobari (скобари) is an ethnic group in Russia and I could not find any proper anglicized word for them. And you probably won’t be able to sing along the translation with the original.
Who goes there, who goes there
have a look at who goes there
riding on a crippled mare
that sems to be our Skobari.
Skobari are a jolly nation
going home from a fare
one bare naked, one bare footed
and one with an injured head.
Play me such one
Skobar funny
so my tummy doesn’t hurt
tummy mine, the sinner’s one.
Play me such one
thats good for dancing
but not for every
snot nose prancing.
Smashhing up, smashing up
I feel like smashing up.
And truth be told you
I feel like brawling too.
Who’s that lad
prancing knees
hasn’t got hands on
aspen sticks.
Pennies for a party one
daddy collects his loot.
Mom whispers in his ear:
“Don’t you get drunk you silly fool!”
I was born hopeless
with no respect too –
should the heads roll
I’ll tie the rope.
I am breaking, back is arching,
I’m not really feeling well,
give ne just one half a litre
and I no doctor is needed.
We saw the grave of the one
who called us drunkards.
We did drink for our own money
nobody was serving us.
…….