One of the most beautiful Dutch songs ever: Het Dorp

submitted by Laekroth
1 decade 5 years 3 months 2 weeks ago
Pure melancholy and nostalgia from the early 70's... Even though it's Dutch, I hope it appeals to non-dutch Sifters as well :)

I ran it through google translator and with some minor modifications it gives a small idea about the story:

At home I have a postcard
on it are a church, a cart and a horse
A butcher 'J. van der Ven'
A bar, a lady on a bike
It probably doesn't mean anything to you
But it's where I was born
This village, I remember how it was
The farmer's children in the classroom
A cart that rattles on the old roads
The city hall with a waterpump in front of it
A Sand road through the corn field
The livestock farms

Chorus:
And along the garden path of my father
I saw the high trees
I was a child and knew no better
That it would never pass

They lived very simple lives
In simple houses with much vegetation
With wild flowers and a hedge
But apparently they lived wrong
The village has been modernised
And now they are on the right track
For see how rich life is
They see the television quiz
And live in concrete boxes
With large windows, so you can see
How the couch looks at 'Mien'
And her sideboard with plastic roses

Chorus

The village youth cluster together
In miniskirt and Beatle hair
And howls along with beat-music
I know it is their good right
The new time, just what you say
But it makes me melancholic
I knew their fathers
They bought a liquorice for one cent
I saw their mothers jump rope
That village then, it's over
This is what remained for me
A postcard and reminders

And along the garden path of my father
I saw the high trees
I was a child, how could I know
That that would go well beyond

10 Comments

Kreegathsays...

Thought I heard something about plastic roses and de Graafschap in the song. Both are worth an upvote, and even if neither is sung about here, the melody itself is nice enough and the artist is good at what he does.

Aeglesays...

Babel Fish translation, not the best but...

They leave the country one by one
To go itself from there to earn their living
Far from the ground where they were born
For a long time they dreamed some
City and of its secrecies
Formica and movies
The old men that were not original
When they essuyaient machinal
Of a reverse of handle lips
But they knew all by the way
To kill ruail or young partridge
And to eat divides into volumes it goat

However that the mountain is beautiful
How can one think
By seeing a flight of swallows
What the autumn has just arrived?

With their hands above their heads
They had assembled dry stone walls
Until the top of the hill
What imports the days the years
They had all the well born heart
Knotty like a vine
The vines they run in the forest
The wine will not be drawn any more
It was a horrible nasty wine
But it made centenaries
With more knowknowing to only make some
If it did not turn you the head

However that the mountain is beautiful
How can one think
By seeing a flight of swallows
What the autumn has just arrived?

Two goats and then some sheep
One year good and the other not
And without holidays and exits
The girls want to go to the ball
There is nothing more normal
To want to live its life
Their life they will be cops or civils servant
What to wait without being done some
That the hour of the retirement sounds
It is necessary to know what one likes
And to return in its H.L.M.
To eat chicken with the hormones

However that the mountain is beautiful
How can one think
By seeing a flight of swallows
That the autumn has just arrived

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