Moonsorrow — Kylän päässä song lyrics and translation
The page contains the lyrics and English translation of the song "Kylän päässä" by Moonsorrow.
Lyrics
Kauan sitten kylän päässäsyntyi kaksi poikaa,
kaksi perillistäsodanjumalan karhuntaljoin verhotun.
Jo kolmen iästä, sanovat, toisiansa alkoivat harjoittaa
ja kun teräksensäyhteen kalahti, saattoi kuulla ukkosen.
Kauan sitten kylän päässävarttui kaksi poikaa,
kaksiko vain typerystäkuolemaa pilkkaamaan?
Ei yksikään haava vieläollut tehnyt
tehtäväänsä
ja siksi kai sitämiekasta vihollisen täytyi anoa.
Aina kunnia houkuttaa nuorta kansaa
(ryöstöretki merten taa) ja taistelu sitäkin enemmän.
Varmaan turmaan rientävän tielle
vain toinen hullu uskaltautuu.
Kun kenttähohkaa kärsimystäja kirveet lentävät,
leikki kanssa kuoleman vain yltyy.
Niin riemukasta lapsien on päitäpudottaa
kuunnellessaan sotajoukkoa hurraavaa.
Usein käykin vain niin et' vertaisesta tulee alempi.
Tarinan kulku voitoista kääntyy
ja maine ihmisen helposti antaa veljensäunohtaa.
Ylpeys, tuo kavalin tauti päällämaan,
näin on vienyt taas yhden uhrin muassaan.
Kumpi lie se epatto, kilpi alhaalla ja miekka koholla
teilleen mennyt vaiko hän joka hautoja kaivaa saa?
Heikompaa voima mik' riepottaa;
kotinsa on iäksi jättänyt tahtoen vieläsurmata.
Kunniaton moinen työ.
Long ago a village away there were born two sons,
two heirs of the god of war dressed in bearskins.
From the age of three, they say, each other they did train
and when their steel did clash thunder could be heard.
Long ago a village away there did grow two sons,
or were they just two fools born to mock their deaths?
Still they hadn’t got a wound that would’ve hurt’d enough
to prevent them from begging such from a foreign blade.
Honour always tempts the young blood
(plundering across the seas) and battles even more.
Into the way of the one rushing to his doom
only another insane dares step.
When the field emits pain and axes fly about,
play with death is on the increase.
Such a joy for children the dropping of heads is as long as their army cheers.
Yet so often equality becomes inferiority.
The course of a story twists at triumphs
and fame so easily lets a man forsake his kin.
Thus pride, that most insidious illness on all earth,
once again has taken its prey.
Which one might be the failure, he who left with a lowered
shield and sword held high or he who has to dig the graves?
Tossed about is the weaker by what force;
his home he has left, gained just more will to slay.
What a disgrace is such work.
Lyrics translation
Long ago two boys were born in the village.,
two heirs of the God of war, cloaked in bearskin.
From the age of three, say, each other began to practice
and when the steel was rattling, you could hear the Thunder.
Long ago there were two boys at the head of the village,
two Fool deaths to make fun of?
Not a single wound did
for his mission
and that's probably why the enemy had to apply for that sword.
Always an honor to attract a young people
(raid beyond the seas) and the battle even more so.
Must be on the road to the crash
only another madman will venture.
When the field is prone to suffering and the axes fly,
playing with death just gets bigger.
It's so joyous for kids to drop their heads.
listening to the troops cheering.
Often it just happens that the et ' peer becomes the lower.
The story of the victories turns
and the reputation of Man easily gives his brother a dream.
Pride, that treacherous disease on Earth,
this is how he's taken another victim in his life.
Which one is that epotto, shield down, and sword uplifted
what happened to you,or who digs graves gets?
The weaker force mik'läpää;
his home has been left forever wanting to be demolished.
It's a dishonorable job.
Long ago a village away there were born two sons,
two heirs of the god of war dressed in bearskins.
From the age of three, they say, each other they did train
and when their steel did clash thunder could be heard.
Long ago a village away there did grow two sons,
or were they just two fools born to mock their deaths?
Still they hadn't got a wound that would've hurt'd enough
to prevent them from being such from a foreign blade.
Honor always tempts the young blood
(plugging across the seas) and battles even more.
Into the way of the one rushing to his doom
only another insane dares step.
When the field emits pain and axes fly about,
play with death is on the increase.
Such a joy for children the dropping of heads is as long as their army cheers.
Yet so often equality becomes inferiority.
The course of a story twists at triumphs
and fame so easily lets a man forsake his kin.
Thus pride, that most insidious illness on all earth,
once again has taken its prey.
Which one might be the failure, he who left with a lowered
shield and sword held high or he who has to dig the graves?
Tossed about is the weaker by what force;
his home he has left, gained just more will to slay.
What a disgrace is such work.