Dal: Ingiriiska
Turjumay: Samatar Maxamad Siciid
Jooji dhamaan saacadaha, jar telefoonka,
Kaga reeb laf dheecaman inuu ayga ciyo,
Aamusi biyaanada, durbaanna cod hooseed
Kula soo baxi naxashka, ha soo galaan dadka tacsida.
Ha kula wareegsadaan kor diyaaradaha reemid,
Iyagoo ku qorayo cirka: Wuu Dhintay.
U gali qoorxiro xorjaban qoolleyda surka cad ee tacsida,
Ha xirtaan booliiska taraafikada faromaro suuf, madow.
Wuxuu ahaa waqooyigayga, koonfurtayda, barigayga iyo galbeedkayga,
Maalmo-hawleedkayga iyo maalinta nasashadayda,
Duhurkayga, saqdayda, hadalkayga, heestayda;
Waxaan u maleeyay in caashaqu waligiisaba jiro: Waan ku qaldanaa.
Xidigaha hadda looma baahno; dami mid kastaba,
Xirxir dayaxa oo kala dhig qoraxda,
Qub badwaynta oo banaanay jiqda;
Ee waxna baa hadda yeelan karin waligiisa wanaag.
Funeral Blues
Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum,
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.
Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead,
Scribbling on the sky the message He is Dead.
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.
He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong.
The stars are not wanted now; put out every one,
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun,
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the woods;
For nothing now can ever come to any good.
