Mi vagyunk Azahriah – megnéztük a filmet, ilyennek láttuk
tovább
Dove
Dalriada
I see the lovely sky lighting up the night,
Star of Peace is flying, glittering int he dark.
Maybe in a blood-field, a waving tricolour,
Master of the Armies, be my mighty saviour!
I dont intend to spill my blood for my country,
Yet my heart is beraking for my home constantly.
Even the gloomy bells toll on a muted voice,
When the soldiers marchers, there’s no choice.
’Cause even the swallows, where it’s being reared,
Sings a sad, bitter song, when time has come to leave,
For my father and my mother i take the sword,
I use it proudly for my Hungarian home.
Thank you, my Mother, for bringing me up,
For the tears you shed, so many, for your son.
Now, to you, i don’t return anything,
God bless you, is my wish, for everything.
Thank you, my Mother, for not rearing me,
For not shelding tears, never, for me.
Now, to you, i don’t return anyhing,
God beat you, is my wish, for everything.
I have left my lovely country,
From the brave world, called Hungary,
From the half way i have returned,
Tears from my eyes spilled without end.
My sad dinner, my sad supper
Every miserable hour.
I’gazing at the starlit sky,
No one hears my silent cry.
Dreadful peril’s ahead for our country,
Bloody attack of a pagan army.
Villages are perished, cities have been fallen,
Blood covers the ground of the homeland of our nation.
The wind is crying, let my eyes cry with it,
Is my love waiting for me, is she loves me?
Where i was given birth, is the house still standing?
I will never forget our lovely country.
Star of Peace is flying, glittering int he dark.
Maybe in a blood-field, a waving tricolour,
Master of the Armies, be my mighty saviour!
I dont intend to spill my blood for my country,
Yet my heart is beraking for my home constantly.
Even the gloomy bells toll on a muted voice,
When the soldiers marchers, there’s no choice.
’Cause even the swallows, where it’s being reared,
Sings a sad, bitter song, when time has come to leave,
For my father and my mother i take the sword,
I use it proudly for my Hungarian home.
Thank you, my Mother, for bringing me up,
For the tears you shed, so many, for your son.
Now, to you, i don’t return anything,
God bless you, is my wish, for everything.
Thank you, my Mother, for not rearing me,
For not shelding tears, never, for me.
Now, to you, i don’t return anyhing,
God beat you, is my wish, for everything.
I have left my lovely country,
From the brave world, called Hungary,
From the half way i have returned,
Tears from my eyes spilled without end.
My sad dinner, my sad supper
Every miserable hour.
I’gazing at the starlit sky,
No one hears my silent cry.
Dreadful peril’s ahead for our country,
Bloody attack of a pagan army.
Villages are perished, cities have been fallen,
Blood covers the ground of the homeland of our nation.
The wind is crying, let my eyes cry with it,
Is my love waiting for me, is she loves me?
Where i was given birth, is the house still standing?
I will never forget our lovely country.
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