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Poetry with a tune: "Translation of Lyrics" » English to Ukrainian

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Source text in English

Sunday Mornin' Comin' Down

Well, I woke up Sunday morning
With no way to hold my head that didn't hurt.
And the beer I had for breakfast wasn't bad,
So I had one more for dessert.
Then I fumbled in my closet through my clothes
And found my cleanest dirty shirt.
Then I washed my face and combed my hair
And stumbled down the stairs to meet the day.

I'd smoked my mind the night before
With cigarettes and songs I'd been picking.
But I lit my first and watched a small kid
Playing with a can that he was kicking.
Then I walked across the street
And caught the Sunday smell of someone's frying chicken.
And Lord, it took me back to something that I'd lost
Somewhere, somehow along the way.

On a Sunday morning sidewalk,
I'm wishing, Lord, that I was stoned.
'Cause there's something in a Sunday
That makes a body feel alone.
And there's nothing short a' dying
That's half as lonesome as the sound
Of the sleeping city sidewalk
And Sunday morning coming down.

In the park I saw a daddy
With a laughing little girl that he was swinging.
And I stopped beside a Sunday school
And listened to the songs they were singing.
Then I headed down the street,
And somewhere far away a lonely bell was ringing,
And it echoed through the canyon
Like the disappearing dreams of yesterday.

On a Sunday morning sidewalk,
I'm wishing, Lord, that I was stoned.
'Cause there's something in a Sunday
That makes a body feel alone.
And there's nothing short a' dying
That's half as lonesome as the sound
Of the sleeping city sidewalk
And Sunday morning coming down.

There were 3 entries submitted in this pair during the submission phase.

Entries submitted in this pair were rated on a per-segment basis. Listed below are all submitted translations of each individual source text segment.

Submitted segment translations

Translations submitted for each source text segment are listed below. Segments have had surrounding punctuation stripped, and the resulting identical segments have been grouped together, so each listed translation should differ, but the difference may be subtle (eg. internal punctuation or diacritics).

Viewing segment # out of 9

Source text segment #5

Then I walked across the street
And caught the Sunday smell of someone's frying chicken.
And Lord, it took me back to something that I'd lost
Somewhere, somehow along the way.
Rank by:
+2 | -1
Flashback to a long-gone stable relationship, or childhood ...
Μετά πέρασα στην άλλη μεριά του δρόμου
και με πήρε η Κυριακάτικη μυρουδιά κοτόπουλου που κάποιος τηγάνιζε.
Και, Κύριε, μ' έκανε ν' αναπολήσω �
Pređoh preko ulice,
miris pečenja nečijeg osjetih tada.
O Bože, sjećanje na nešto što izgubih usput,
negdje, nekada
مشيت على طوال الشارع في يوم احد مميز برائحة المشواي المنبعثة من المداخن, يا الاهي, رائحة الشواى اعادتني الى ذكريات فقدتها منذ زمن بعيد, على �
fried chicken is a common sunday lunch in the USA, but not in France it would be roasted chicken and not fried: poulet rôti ...
country fried chicken, hashbrown casserole, eggs - a "family" style breakfast - lost to the singer as he's alone
-2
De ahí, cruzé la calle y agarré el olor de Domingo del pollo frito de alguien. Y oh Señor, el olor me llevó hacia algo que había perdido algún Lugar, de una forma u otra ordenadamente.

Translations of this segment (3 total; 3 unique)

Тоді я перейшов дорогу І відчув Недільний запах чиєїсь смаженої курки. І, о Боже, це нагадало мені про дещо, що я втратив Десь, якимсь чином на моєму шляху
Далі я пішов уздовж вулиці зловивши недільний запах смаженої курки І Боже, це повернуло мене до того що втратив Я Десь та якось вздовж мого шляху
Вирушаю далі, в ніс шиба чиясь пахка недільна печеня̀. Боже, все це з тих часів, які Я десь, колись і якось загубив
Viewing segment # out of 9