Текст песни Военные марши Японии - Senyuu
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Здесь расположен текст песни Военные марши Японии - Senyuu, перевод и видео.
戦 友 - Senyu - "War Comrade" - the song was written in 1905, inspired by the stories of wounded soldiers returning from the Russo-Japanese War, music by Kozuoki MIYOSHI, lyrics by Hisen MASHITA. At first it was popular among schoolgirls, and then spread throughout the country and became one of the most beloved war songs among the people. It was banned after the Manchurian incident (1931) because of the "demoralizing effect and violation of the military code described in the text", but was performed quietly, first by senior conscripts at the funerals of their dead comrades, and then by ordinary soldiers in moments of sadness and nostalgia. A short retelling of 14 verses of the song: Hundreds of kilometers from my homeland, under the red evening sun of Manchuria, my comrade in arms rests under a stone in the wilderness. It is sad to realize that yesterday he was the first to attack and terrified enemies. Here lies a brave warrior. In the midst of the battle, he suddenly fell. Forgetting everything, I rushed to him. This is prohibited by the military code, but who can remain indifferent to this? Under a hail of bullets, with words of encouragement, I lifted him up and put on a bandage. In the midst of the noise and roar of the battle, he lifted his head for the last time and said to me with tears in his eyes: "Don't linger and don't worry about me. We have a duty to the country." I didn't want to leave him, but it was still better to say goodbye to him. When the battle was over and it got dark, I returned to find him, hoping in my heart that he was still alive and would tell me something. But in vain, his soul went to his ancestors. To make matters worse, his watch kept ticking in his pocket. I remembered how last year we met him aboard the ship, when the land disappeared from sight. We shook hands, exchanged cigarettes and showed each other the letters we had received from home. We thought that each of us could die at any moment, and decided that the survivor would have to take care of the remains of a comrade. Could I imagine then that I would outlive my friend and dig a grave for him under the red evening sun of Manchuria. The moon is shining brightly. I got out my pen and am writing a touching letter to his parents about his last hours. The pen slides slowly, and thinking about how his parents will feel as they read this letter, I drop my tears onto the paper.
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