ProZ.com translation contests »
Poetry with a tune: "Translation of Lyrics" » English to Bulgarian

Competition in this pair is now closed, and the winning entry has been announced.

Discussion and feedback about the competition in this language pair may now be provided by visiting the "Discussion & feedback" page for this pair. Entries may also be individually discussed by clicking the "Discuss" link next to any listed entry.

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 4 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 #4

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.
Rank by:
+10
picking : Johnny Cash played guitar, so it could be a reference to guitar picking as well...
+4
I meant Kris Kristofferson....
+1
Anoche colme mi mente del humo
de cigarrillos y de canciones punteadas.
Igual ya encendí el primero mientras
miraba a un pequeño que una lata pateaba.
Like Kris in English ending in "..in", these lines end in "..adas and ..aba"

In der Nacht zuvor betäubte ich meinen Geist mit Zigaretten und von mir ausgesuchten Liedern.Aber als ich die erste anzündete, sah ich ein kleines, spielendes Kind mit einer Dose, die es trat.
Me habia fumado my mente anoche con cigarros y canciones que habia estado seleccionando. Pero al prender el primero vi a un niño jugando con una lata que la estaba pateando
Había fumado mi mente la noche pasada Con cigarrillos y canciones que hube estado seleccionando. Pero encendí mi primero y observé un niñito Jugando con una lata que el estaba pateando.
Σαν καπνό είχα κάνει το μυαλό μου ψες
με τσιγάρα και τραγούδια διαλεκτά μου.
Αλλ' άναψα το πρώτο μου και έβλεπα ένα παιδάκι
που έπαιζε κλοτσώ
Noć prije mozak sam napušio
cigaretama i pjesmama koje sam si birao.
Al' zapalih prvu pa dječaka u igri ugledah -
limenku je našutavao.

Translations of this segment (4 total; 4 unique)

Мозъкът ми беше пропит от вечерта с цигарен дим и уловени мелодии. Но си запалих първата и се загледах в малкото дете, заиграло се ритайки тенекиена кутия
Опуших душата си предната вечер С безброй цигари и песни. Но запалих първата и се загледах в детето, което подритваше празна кутия
Ума си предната вечер замъглих с цигари и с песни – и пак, и пак! Но нова палнах и погледах как едно момче консерва рита с крак
В главата ми - мъгла от снощи От цигарите и песните, които чух Запалих първата за днес и се загледах В едно дете, което риташе боклук
Viewing segment # out of 9