The Prayer of François Villon (Molitva) (Bulat Okudzhava cover) Lyrics
poka yeshche yarok svet,
gospodi, dai zhe ty kazhdomu,
chego u nego net:
umnomu dai golovu,
truslivomu dai konya,
dai schastlivomu deneg
i ne zabud' pro menya.
gospodi, tvoya vlast'!
dai rvuschemusya k vlasti
navlastvovatsya vslast',
dai peredyshku shchedromu,
khot' do iskhoda dnya.
kainu dai raskayan'ye
i ne zabud' pro menya.
ya veruyu v mudrost' tvoyu,
kak verit soldat ubityy,
chto on prozhivaet v rayu;
kak verit kazhdoye ukho
tikhim recham tvoim,
kak veruyem i my sami,
ne vedaya, chto tvorim!
gospodi moy bozhe,
zelenoglazyy moy!
i yeto yey stranno samoy,
poka ey yeshche khavatayet
vremeni i ognya,
dai zhe tyi vsem ponemnogu
i ne zabud' pro menya.
dai zhe ty vsem ponemnogu
i ne zabud' pro menya.
пока еще ярок свет,
Господи, дай же ты каждому,
чего у него нет:
мудрому дай голову,
трусливому дай коня,
дай счастливому денег...
И не забудь про меня.
Господи, твоя власть! —
дай рвущемуся к власти
навластвоваться всласть,
дай передышку щедрому,
хоть до исхода дня.
Каину дай раскаяние...
И не забудь про меня.
я верую в мудрость твою,
как верит солдат убитый,
что он проживает в раю,
как верит каждое ухо
тихим речам твоим,
как веруем и мы сами,
не ведая, что творим!
зеленоглазый мой!
Пока Земля еще вертится,
и это ей странно самой,
пока ей еще хватает
времени и огня,
дай же ты всем понемногу...
И не забудь про меня.
Here's the English translation I found on another site:
As long as the world's still turning, As long as the air's still sweet, Lord, won't you give to all of us Whatever it is we need? Give a mind to the wise one, A shield to the enemy, Give some gold to the happy man, And don't forget about me.
As long as the world's still turning, Lord, if it be your will, Give to the hungry for power A kingdom to rule his fill. Give some rest to the generous Under a shady tree, Wash the stain from the face of Cain, And don't forget about me.
I know that your powers are wondrous, I believe that your ways are wise, The way that a fallen soldier Believes he's in paradise, The way every breathing being Believes in your gentle word, The way, in our utter oblivion, We keep on believing, oh Lord.
My all-wise, my all-merciful, My sweet Lord of sea-green eyes, As long as the world's still turning To its eternal surprise, As long as it still has plenty of Fire and destiny, Give a little to everyone And don't forget about me.
Some background on Villon from Wikipedia: "Francois Villon is the best known French poet of the late Middle Ages. A ne'er-do-well who was involved in criminal behavior and got into numerous scrapes with authorities, Villon wrote about some of these experiences in his poems."