Oldies But Goodies

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When you & I were young, Maggie (¿ì¸®°¡ ¾î·ÈÀ» Àû¿¡) Ã߾﹫´ë

When you & I were young, Maggie (¿ì¸®°¡ ¾î·ÈÀ» Àû¿¡)

Sung by Tom Roush (1866)

 

I wandered today to the hill, Maggie,
to watch the scene below the creek and the creaking old mill, Maggie,
as we used to long ago.

³ª´Â ¿À´Ã ±× ¾ð´öÀ» µ¹¾Æ´Ù³æ¾î¸Å±â.

¿¾³¯¿¡ ±×·¨´ø °Íó·³ °³¿ï ¾Æ·¡ »ß°Æ°Å¸®´Â ³°Àº ¹°·¹¹æ¾Ñ°£ ±¤°æÀ» ¹Ù¶óº¸±â À§Çؼ­¸Å±â.

 

The green grove is gone from the hill, Maggie where first the daisies sprung

The creaking old mill is now still, Maggie since you and I were young.

¾ð´ö¿¡ µ¥ÀÌÁö ²ÉÀÌ Ã³À½ ÇǾ´ø ±× Ǫ¸¥ ½£Àº »ç¶óÁ³¾î¸Å±â,

¿ì¸®°¡ ¾î·ÈÀ» Àû ÀÌÈķλ߰ưŸ®´ø ³°Àº ¹°·¹¹æ¾Æ´Â ÀÌÁ¦ °í¿äÇØÁ³¾î¸Å±â.

 

And now we are aged and gray, Maggie, and the trials of life nearly done.

Let us sing of the days that are gone, Maggie when you and I were young.

ÀÌÁ¦ ¿ì¸®´Â ´Ä¾î ¸Ó¸®Ä«¶ôµµ Èñ²ýÈñ²ý ÇØÁ³¾î±×¸®°í ÀλýÀÇ ½Ã·Ãµµ °ÅÀÇ ³¡³µ¾î.

¿ì¸® ÀÌÁ¦ ¿ì¸®°¡ Àþ¾úÀ» ½ÃÀýÀÇ Áö³­ ³¯µéÀ» ³ë·¡ÇغÁ¸Å±â.

 

A city so silent and lone, Maggie where the young and the gay and the best in polished white mansions of stone, Maggie, have each found a place of rest.

¾ÆÁÖ Á¶¿ëÇÏ°í °íµ¶ÇÑ µµ½Ã¸Å±âÀþÀ½°ú ÄèÈ°ÇÔÀÌ ÃÖ°í¿´´ø °÷.

±¤Ã¤°¡ ³ª´Â ÇÏ¾á µ¹·Î ÁöÀº ÀúÅÿ¡¼­ °¢ÀÚ ÈÞ½ÄÀÇ Àå¼Ò¸¦ ã¾Æ³Â¾úÁö, ¸Å±â,

 

Is built where the birds used to play, Maggie,

and join in the songs that were sung for we sang as gay as they, Maggie, when you and I were young.

±× ÈÞ½ÄÀÇ Àå¼Ò´Â »õµéÀÌ ³î°ï Çß´ø °÷¿¡ Áö¾îÁ³¾úÁö¸Å±â.

±×¸®°í ¿ì¸®°¡ ÄèÈ°ÇÏ°Ô ºÒ·È´ø ³ë·¡µé ¼Ó¿¡¼­ ¾î¿ï·ÈÁö¿ì¸®°¡ ¾î·ÈÀ» ½ÃÀýÀÇ ¸Å±â

 

And now we are aged and gray, Maggie, and the trials of life nearly done.

Let us sing of the days that are gone, Maggie when you and I were young.

 

 

They say that I'm feeble with age, Maggie,

my steps are less sprightly than then,

my face is a well written page, Maggie, but time alone was the pen.

»ç¶÷µéÀº ³»°¡ ³ªÀ̸¦ ¸Ô¾î¼­ Çã¾àÇÏ´Ù°íµé ¸»Çظűâ,

³» ¹ß°ÉÀ½µµ ¿¹Àüº¸´Ü ´ú È°±âÂ÷°í,

³» ¾ó±¼Àº Àß ½áÁø Àλý»çÀÇ ÀåÀÌÁö¸Å±âÇÏÁö¸¸½Ã°£¸¸ÀÌ ¸¸µç ÀÛÇ°À̾ú¾î.

 

They say we are aged and gray, Maggie,

as sprays by the white breakers flung, but to me you're as fair as you were, Maggie, when you and I were young.

»ç¶÷µéÀº ¿ì¸®°¡ ´Ä¾î ¸Ó¸®Ä«¶ôÀÌ Èñ²ýÈñ²ýÇÏ´Ù°í Çظűâ.

°©ÀÚ±â Æ¢¾î³ª¿Â Èò Â÷´Ü±â ¿·¿¡¼­ ÀÜ °¡Áöó·³ ¸Å±â,

ÇÏÁö¸¸ ³»°Ô´Â ´ç½ÅÀº ¿¹Àüó·³ ³»°Ô ¸Å·ÂÀûÀ̾߿츮°¡ ¾î·ÈÀ» ½ÃÀýÀÇ ¸Å±â.

 

And now we are aged and gray, Maggie, and the trials of life nearly done.

Let us sing of the days that are gone, Maggie when you and I were young.

 

Songwriters: J. Butterfield / George Johnson / Malcom Mills / Dan Russell

 

À½¾Çµè±â: http://mini.thinkpool.com/exim/1640117






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