There Only Was One Choice: Oversættelser i Dansk og tekster - Harry Chapin

Oversættelsen af ​​There Only Was One Choice - Harry Chapin i Dansk og de originale sangtekster
There Only Was One Choice: Oversættelse i Italiensk og tekster - Harry Chapin Italiensk
There Only Was One Choice: Oversættelse i Engelsk og tekster - Harry Chapin Engelsk
There Only Was One Choice: Oversættelse i Spansk og tekster - Harry Chapin Spansk
There Only Was One Choice: Oversættelse i Fransk og tekster - Harry Chapin Fransk
There Only Was One Choice: Oversættelse i Tysk og tekster - Harry Chapin Tysk
There Only Was One Choice: Oversættelse i Portoguese og tekster - Harry Chapin Portoguese
There Only Was One Choice: Oversættelse i Russisk og tekster - Harry Chapin Russisk
There Only Was One Choice: Oversættelse i Hollandsk og tekster - Harry Chapin Hollandsk
There Only Was One Choice: Oversættelse i Svensk og tekster - Harry Chapin Svensk
There Only Was One Choice: Oversættelse i Norsk og tekster - Harry Chapin Norsk
There Only Was One Choice: Oversættelse i Dansk og tekster - Harry Chapin Dansk
There Only Was One Choice: Oversættelse i Hindi og tekster - Harry Chapin Hindi
There Only Was One Choice: Oversættelse i Polere og tekster - Harry Chapin Polere
Nedenfor finder du sangtekster , musikvideo og oversættelse af There Only Was One Choice - Harry Chapin på forskellige sprog.

Tekster til There Only Was One Choice
af Harry Chapin

There's a kid out on my corner
Hear him strumming like a fool
Shivering in his dungarees
But still he's going to school
His cheeks are made of peach fuzz
His hopes may be the same
But he's signed up as a soldier
Out to play the music game

There are fake patches on his jacket
He's used bleach to fade his jeans
With a brand new stay-pressed shirt
And some creased and wrinkled dreams
His face a blemish garden
But his eyes are virgin clear
His voice is Chicken Little's
But he's hearing Paul Revere

When he catches himself giggling
He forces up a sneer
Though he'd rather have a milk shake
He keeps forcing down the beer
Just another folkie
Late in coming down the pike
Riding his guitar
He left Kid Brother with his bike
And he's got Guthrie running in his bones
He's the hobo kid who's left his home
And his Beatles records and the Rolling Stones
This boy is staying acoustic
There's Seeger singing in his heart
He hopes his songs will somehow start
To heal the cracks that split apart
America gone plastic

And now there's Dylan dripping from his mouth
He's hitching himself way down south
To learn a little black and blues
From old street men who paid their dues
Cause they knew they had nothing to lose
They knew it
So they just got to it

With cracked old Gibsons and red clay shoes
Playing 1-4-5 chords like good news
And cursed with skin that calls for blood
They put their face and feet in mud
But oh they learned the music from way down there
The real ones learn it somewhere

Strum your guitar
Sing it kid
Just write about your feelings
Not the things you never did
It once had cursed me
But your youth is no handicap
It's what makes you thirsty
Hey, kid you know you can hear your footsteps
As you're kicking up the dust
And the rustling in the shadows
Tells you secrets you can trust
The capturing of whispers
Is the way to write a song
It's when you get to microphones
The music can go wrong

You can't see the audience
With spotlights in your eyes
Your feet can't feel the highway
From where the Lear jet flies
When you glide in silent splendor
In your padded limousines
Only you are crying there
Behind the silver screen
Now you battle dragons
But they'll all turn into frogs
When you grab the wheel of fortune
You get caught up in the cog

First your art turns into craft
Then the yahoos start to laugh
Then you'll hear the jackals howl
Cause they love to watch the fall
They're the lost ones out there feeding
On the wounded and the bleeding
They always are the first to see
The cracks upon the walls
When I started this song I was still thirty-three
The age that Mozart died and sweet Jesus was set free
Keats and Shelley too soon finished, Charley Parker would be
And I fantasized some tragedy'd be soon curtailing me

Well just today I had my birthday -- I made it thirty-four
Mere mortal, not immortal, not star-crossed anymore
I've got this problem with my aging I no longer can ignore
A tame and toothless tabby can't produce a lion's roar

And I can't help being frightened on these midnight afternoons
When I ask the loaded questions -- Why does winter come so soon?
And where are all the golden girls that I was singing for
The daybreak chorus of my dreams serenades no more

Yeah the minute man is going soft -- the mirror's on the shelf
Only when the truth's up there -- can you fool yourself
I am the aged jester -- who won't gracefully retire
A clumsy clown without a net caught staggering on the high wire

Yesterday's a collar that has settled round my waist

Today keeps slipping by me, it leaves no aftertaste
Tomorrow is a daydream, the future's never true
Am I just a fading fire or a breeze passing through?

Hello my Country
I once came to tell everyone your story
Your passion was my poetry
And your past my most potent glory
Your promise was my prayer
Your hypocrisy my nightmare
And your problems fill my present
Are we both going somewhere?

Step right up young lady
Your two hundred birthdays make you old if not senile
And we see the symptoms there in your rigor mortis smile
With your old folks eating dog food
And your children eating paint
While the pirates own the flag
And sell us sermons on restraint

And while blood's the only language that your deaf old ears can hear
And still you will not answer with that message coming clear
Does it mean there's no more ripples in your tired old glory stream
And the buzzards own the carcass of your dream?

BUY Centennial
Sell 'em pre-canned laughter
America Perennial
Sing happy ever after

There's a Dance Band on the Titanic
Singing Nearer My God to Thee
And the iceberg's on the starboard bow
Won't you dance with me

Yes I read it in the New York Times
That was on the stands today
It said that dreams were out of fashion
We'll hear no more empty promises
There'll be no more wasted passions
To clutter up our play

It really was a good sign
The words went on to say
It shows that we are growing up
In oh so many healthy ways
And I told myself this is
Exactly where I'm at
But I don't much like thinking about that

Harry -- are you really so naive
You can honestly believe
That the country's getting better
When all you do is let her alone
Harry -- Can you really be surprised
When it's there before your eyes
When you hold the knife that carves her
You live the life that starves her to the bone

Good dreams don't come cheap
You've got to pay for them
If you just dream when you're asleep
There is no way for them
To come alive
To survive

It's not enough to listen -- it's not enough to see
When the hurricane is coming on it's not enough to flee
It's not enough to be in love -- we hide behind that word
It's not enough to be alive when your future's been deferred

What I've run through my body, what I've run through my mind
My breath's the only rhythm -- and the tempo is my time
My enemy is hopelessness -- my ally honest doubt
The answer is a question that I never will find out

Is music propaganda -- should I boogie, Rock and Roll
Or just an early warning system hitched up to my soul
Am I observer or participant or huckster of belief
Making too much of a life so mercifully brief?

So I stride down sunny streets and the band plays back my song
They're applauding at my shadow long after I am gone
Should I hold this wistful notion that the journey is worthwhile
Or tiptoe cross the chasm with a song and a smile

Well I got up this morning -- I don't need to know no more
It evaporated nightmares that had boiled the night before
With every new day's dawning my kid climbs in my bed
And tells the cynics of the board room your language is dead

And as I wander with my music through the jungles of despair
My kid will learn guitar and find his street corner somewhere
There he'll make the silence listen to the dream behind the voice
And show his minstrel Hamlet daddy that there only was one choice

Strum your guitar -- sing it kid
Just write about your feelings -- not the things you never did
Inexperience -- it once had cursed me
But your youth is no handicap -- it's what makes you thirsty, hey kid

Strum your guitar -- sing it kid
Just write about your feelings -- not the things you never did


Oversættelse i Dansk af sangen
There Only Was One Choice af Harry Chapin

Der er et barn ude på mit hjørne
Hør ham snuble som en fjols
Rystende i hans kjoler
Men stadig går han i skole
Hans kinder er lavet af ferskenfuzz
Hans håb kan være det samme
Men han er tilmeldt som soldat
Ud for at spille musikspil

Der er falske pletter på hans jakke
Han har brugt blegemiddel til at falme hans jeans
Med en splinterny opholdspresset skjorte
Og nogle krøllede og rynkede drømme
Hans ansigt en pletfarvet have
Men hans øjne er jomfruelige
Hans stemme er Chicken Little's
Men han hører Paul Revere

Når han får sig til at fnise
Han tvinger en latterliggørelse
Skønt han hellere vil have en milkshake
Han fortsætter med at tvinge ølen ned
Bare endnu en folkie
Senere ved at komme ned på gedder
Rider på sin guitar
Han forlod Kid Brother med sin cykel
Og han har Guthrie løber i knoglerne
Han er hobo-barnet, der har forladt sit hjem
Og hans Beatles-plader og Rolling Stones
Denne dreng forbliver akustisk
Der synger sang i sit hjerte
Han håber, at hans sange på en eller anden måde begynder
At helbrede de revner, der splittes fra hinanden
Amerika er gået i plast

Og nu drypper Dylan fra hans mund
Han trækker sig langt sydpå
At lære lidt sort og blues
Fra gamle gademænd, der betalte deres kontingent
Fordi de vidste, at de ikke havde noget at tabe
De vidste det
Så de kom lige til det

Med knækkede gamle Gibsons og røde lersko
Spiller 1-4-5 akkorder som gode nyheder
Og forbandet med hud, der kræver blod
De lægger deres ansigt og fødder i mudder
Men åh de lærte musikken derfra derfra
De rigtige lærer det et eller andet sted

Strum din guitar
Syng det barn
Bare skriv om dine følelser
Ikke de ting, du aldrig gjorde
Det havde engang forbandet mig
Men din ungdom er intet handicap
Det er det, der gør dig tørstig
Hej, barn, du ved, du kan høre dine fodspor
Når du sparker støvet op
Og rusten ling i skyggen
Fortæller dig hemmeligheder, du kan stole på
Fangst af hvisker
Er måden at skrive en sang på
Det er når du kommer til mikrofoner
Musikken kan gå galt

Du kan ikke se publikum

Med projektører i øjnene
Dine fødder kan ikke mærke motorvejen
Fra hvor Lear-jet flyver
Når du glider i lydløs pragt
I dine polstrede limousiner
Kun du græder der
Bag sølvskærmen
Nu kæmper du med drager
Men de vil alle forvandles til frøer
Når du griber lykkehjulet
Du bliver fanget i tandhjulet

Først bliver din kunst til håndværk
Så begynder yahooerne at grine
Så vil du høre sjakaler hyle
For de elsker at se efteråret
De er de tabte derude, der fodrer
På de sårede og blødende
De er altid de første til at se
Revnerne på væggene
Da jeg startede denne sang, var jeg stadig tre og tredive
Den alder, hvor Mozart døde og den søde Jesus blev frigivet
Ke ats og Shelley er for tidligt færdige, Charley Parker ville være
Og jeg fantaserede, at nogle tragedier snart ville begrænse mig

Nå lige i dag havde jeg min fødselsdag - jeg lavede det fireogtredive
Mere dødelig, ikke udødelig, ikke stjernekorset længere
Jeg har dette problem med min aldring, jeg kan ikke længere ignorere
En tam og tandløs tabby kan ikke producere et løvebrøl

Og jeg kan ikke lade være med at blive bange disse midnat eftermiddage
Når jeg stiller de indlæste spørgsmål - Hvorfor kommer vinteren så snart?
Og hvor er alle de gyldne piger, som jeg sang for
Dagdrømmekoret i mine drømme serenader ikke mere

Ja det øjeblik mand bliver blød - spejlet er på hylden
Først når sandheden er deroppe - kan du narre dig selv
Jeg er den gamle gøgler - der går ikke yndefuld på pension
En klodset klovn uden et net fanget svimlende på den høje ledning

I går er en krave, der har afgjort rundt om min talje
I dag glider ved mig, det efterlader ingen eftersmag
T morgendag er en dagdrøm, fremtiden er aldrig sand
Er jeg bare en svindende ild eller en brise der passerer igennem?

Hej mit land
Jeg kom engang for at fortælle din historie
Din lidenskab var min poesi
Og din fortid min mest potente herlighed
Dit løfte var min bøn
Dit hykleri mit mareridt
Og dine problemer fylder min nuværende
Er går vi begge et sted?

Træd lige op ung dame
Dine to hundrede fødselsdage gør dig gammel hvis ikke senil
Og vi ser symptomerne der i dit rigor mortis smile
Når dine gamle mennesker spiser hundemad
Og dine børn spiser maling
Mens piraterne ejer flaget
Og sælger os prædikener om tilbageholdenhed

Og mens blod er det eneste sprog, som dine døve gamle ører kan høre
Og stadig vil du ikke svare med den besked, der kommer klar
Betyder det, at der ikke er flere krusninger i din trætte gamle herlighedsstrøm
Og musvågerne ejer slagtekroppen af din drøm?

KØB Centennial
Sælg dem på forhånd-dåse latter

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Het nummer "There Only Was One Choice" is geschreven door Harry Chapin. Støt forfatterne og etiketterne bag oprettelsen ved at købe den, hvis du vil.

Harry Chapin

There Only Was One Choice: Oversættelser og tekster - Harry Chapin
Harry Chapin (7. december 1942 - 16. juli 1981) var en amerikansk singer-songwriter, hvis arv ikke kun er bygget på hans unikke stil med folkemusik, men også på den enorme humanitære indflydelse, han havde.

There Only Was One Choice

There Only Was One Choice er den nye singel fra Harry Chapin hentet fra albummet 'Dance Band on the Titanic' .

Dette er listen over 14 sange indeholdt i albummet. Du kan klikke på en for at se de tilsvarende tekster og oversættelser.

Dette er en lille liste over sange oprettet af , der kunne sunges under koncerten, inklusive navnet på albummet, hvorfra hver sang kom:
  • Dance Band on the Titanic

Andre album af Harry Chapin

Dette album er bestemt ikke den første i hans karriere. For eksempel vil vi minde dig om album som Verities & Balderdash / Living Room Suite.

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