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Poetry with a tune: "Translation of Lyrics"»  Source text notes: English

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Source textPossible source text note
We're lost, but we're making good time.In US English, 'making good time' means 'making good progress' (not 'having fun').
If the world were perfect, it wouldn't be.Grammatically, a contradiction. This adds to the impact of the remark.
I'm not going to buy my kids an encyclopedia. Let them walk to school like I did.'encyclopedia' sounds like something you could ride to school on. (That's the only reason this quote is notable.)

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Source text segment #5

Then I walked across the street And caught the Sunday smell of someone's frying chicken. And Lord, it took me back to something that I'd lost Somewhere, somehow along the way.

Notes about this source segment

Rank by:
+2 | -1
Flashback to a long-gone stable relationship, or childhood ...
Μετά πέρασα στην άλλη μεριά του δρόμου
και με πήρε η Κυριακάτικη μυρουδιά κοτόπουλου που κάποιος τηγάνιζε.
Και, Κύριε, μ' έκανε ν' αναπολήσω �
Pređoh preko ulice,
miris pečenja nečijeg osjetih tada.
O Bože, sjećanje na nešto što izgubih usput,
negdje, nekada
مشيت على طوال الشارع في يوم احد مميز برائحة المشواي المنبعثة من المداخن, يا الاهي, رائحة الشواى اعادتني الى ذكريات فقدتها منذ زمن بعيد, على �
fried chicken is a common sunday lunch in the USA, but not in France it would be roasted chicken and not fried: poulet rôti ...
country fried chicken, hashbrown casserole, eggs - a "family" style breakfast - lost to the singer as he's alone
-2
De ahí, cruzé la calle y agarré el olor de Domingo del pollo frito de alguien. Y oh Señor, el olor me llevó hacia algo que había perdido algún Lugar, de una forma u otra ordenadamente.

Source text

Full source text (11)

#1 Sunday Mornin' Comin' Down (10)

#2 Well, I woke up Sunday morning With no way to hold my head that didn't hurt. And the beer I had for breakfast wasn't bad, So I had one more for dessert. (10)

#3 Then I fumbled in my closet through my clothes And found my cleanest dirty shirt. Then I washed my face and combed my hair And stumbled down the stairs to meet the day. (6)

#4 I'd smoked my mind the night before With cigarettes and songs I'd been picking. But I lit my first and watched a small kid Playing with a can that he was kicking. (8)

#5 Then I walked across the street And caught the Sunday smell of someone's frying chicken. And Lord, it took me back to something that I'd lost Somewhere, somehow along the way. (7)

#6 On a Sunday morning sidewalk, I'm wishing, Lord, that I was stoned. 'Cause there's something in a Sunday That makes a body feel alone. (7)

#7 And there's nothing short a' dying That's half as lonesome as the sound Of the sleeping city sidewalk And Sunday morning coming down. (6)

#8 In the park I saw a daddy With a laughing little girl that he was swinging. And I stopped beside a Sunday school And listened to the songs they were singing. (2)

#9 Then I headed down the street, And somewhere far away a lonely bell was ringing, And it echoed through the canyon Like the disappearing dreams of yesterday. (5)