|
"Stearinljöse härri vinna"
Farväl rosn att England,
må du ahlti väx i hjärta vårrt.
Du va nådn som satt se
där liva vårte dregen iser.
Du kauke ut te lanne vårrt,
å du viske att dom som hadd e ont.
Nu ha du fere ti himlen,
å stjärnan stava' ut namne dett.
Å je tyttje du ha lefft live dett
som e stearinljös härri vinna;
allri slockna lama soLnegånga
när regne satt igång.
Å fotstega di komm ahlti te hammen hen,
uppätt Englands gröönest kulla
stearinljöse dett vårte utbrännt
långt föör legendn denn sterbe ta.
Ma ha förlore skönheita;
tomdaga utta smile dett.
Fackla ske ma ahlti bära
för nation vårs gyllne oong.
Å fastän ma försöik,
så gi sannheita tåran att oss;
meir än oLa vårs kan uttryck
gLäjen du ga oss igjönom åra.
Farväl rosn att England,
från e förlore lann utta själn denn,
som ske saken vingan åt empatin denn
meir än du någensin få veit.
|
"Candle in the wind"
Goodbye, England's rose;
may you ever grow in our hearts.
You were the grace that placed itself
where lives were torn apart.
You called out to our country,
and you whispered to those in pain.
Now you belong to heaven,
and the stars spell out your name.
And it seems to me you lived your life
like a candle in the wind:
never fading with the sunset
when the rain set in.
And your footsteps will always fall here,
along England's greenest hills;
your candle's burned out long before
your legend ever will.
Loveliness we've lost;
these empty days without your smile.
This torch we'll always carry
for our nation's golden child.
And even though we try,
the truth brings us to tears;
all our words cannot express
the joy you brought us through the years.
Goodbye England's rose,
from a country lost without your soul,
who'll miss the wings of your compassion
more than you'll ever know.
|
