La Grischa - Museum Regiunal Surselva
La Grischa - Museum Regiunal Surselva
La Grischa - Museum Regiunal Surselva
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I waS wendIng my way<br />
through the darkneSS of nIght<br />
I was wending my way<br />
through the darkness of night.<br />
It was so dark that night<br />
schneladibeladihopsasa<br />
that not a stone was to be seen.<br />
I went right to my true love’s door,<br />
but locked is how I found it<br />
and so I had to knock.<br />
down they came, all three sisters.<br />
the young one, the pretty one,<br />
that one was my true love.<br />
they took me upstairs to a table,<br />
where food they gave me<br />
and a tankard of wine.<br />
they took me to the top of the house,<br />
where I was to sleep, methinks,<br />
but they hurled me through the shutters.<br />
I landed on a stone,<br />
breaking my right leg,<br />
breaking it in twain.<br />
when I rose to go again,<br />
an old woman did I meet,<br />
who pushed me out of the way.<br />
oh god, if that’s what’s to befall me,<br />
I’ll go off courting again,<br />
definitely go off courting.<br />
3<br />
MinTGa sera cU JeU varGheL<br />
Mintga sera cu jeu varghel<br />
has ti aunc cazzola<br />
tia guila cus’e cusa<br />
launa e mangola<br />
Forsa cusa ella era<br />
siemis en las teilas<br />
siemis giuvens che splenduran<br />
sco vid tschiel las steilas<br />
Forsa spetgas che jeu splunti<br />
ina buna sera<br />
fors’glischass lu ti’egliada<br />
matg e primavera<br />
sursilvan<br />
m: Tumasch Dolf<br />
t: Gian Fontana<br />
arr: Albin Brun<br />
every evenIng when I paSS by<br />
every evening when I pass by,<br />
your light’s still burning.<br />
your needle is a-sewing<br />
wool and cotton.<br />
perhaps it stitches<br />
dreams into the cloth as well,<br />
glistening young dreams<br />
like stars in the heavens.<br />
perhaps you’re waiting for me to knock<br />
one fine eve.<br />
perhaps may and spring might then light up<br />
when you behold them.