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We Are Still Countrymen

When the night meets Saturday
Manhattan turns into such a party
That daisies jump out of flowerpots
Dangerous types come out then
Female good-for-nothings, male sisters
But the main fun is hunting for taxies
 
The driver pulled over, as if he knew
Droplets of drizzle extinguished his headlights
And just in the moment before I thought that
I recognized St. Basil1 on his car charm
 
All taxi drivers are mostly the same
Old naysayers and nihilists
Or silent, lost for words from ugly scenes
Familiar speech just made him wince
Somebody's honked for him to hurry up
A small mouse peered from the corner of the rear-view mirror
 
But every swearword is a mousetrap2
And he couldn't wait to get caught
He pushed away the steering wheel like hot soup
Turned around and slapped his forehead
A bullet stuck in the barrel and silence
But his heart is beating in seven eights3
 
Just yesterday we were countrymen
I can immediately tell that we have the same eyes
Why are you pretending that you're foreigners
When you're not?
 
Just yesterday we were the dream team
And look how things are today
It doesn't matter that the country is new
We're still same old
 
In 19914 he packed his suitcase
Horticulture, but currently a driver
Let's go to his house, to fetch the wife and the sister-in-law
 
Three glasses, he says, start a river
And four glasses flood New York
A tear dropped and clouded his mastika5
 
And he said bitterly, don't wish it on anybody
To earn their bread with politics, that's a sin
You see, my little sons, Vangel and Blaže
Reach for the globe, looking for Strumica6
And wherever they put their little fingers on the Balkans
They cover at least three countries
 
And so it went, one drink after another
The morning blew by like fine flour
Bringing along that old longing for the South7
Nothing too bad
 
God, look after my ex-countrymen
My songs are full of their words
And our sorrows are so much the same
That they confuse me
 

• 1. Presumably in the recognizable form of an orthodox icon
• 2. Ex-Yugoslav nations are prolific swearers and swearwords are a stereotypical way to spot a compatriot abroad
• 3. 7/8 is a characteristic rhythm in Macedonian folk songs, also used in this song
• 4. i.e. at the start of Yugoslav wars
• 5. The Macedonian version of ouzo, i.e. a clear spirit which gets clouded when a drop of water is added
• 6. A town in western Macedonia
• 7. Longing For the South, or T'ga za Jug, is a famous Macedonian poem

Death of a robot

All articuled, all made
Fine programmed in order to help you
I'm a robot since 2000 yo
I displaced all oceans
It's was urgent, I knew it
I re-invented the seasons cycle
And your deserts are full of fishes
 
I know my circuits are warned
I worked so much
They need to be changed
But don't let me down ! Oh ! Oh ! Oh !
I have always dominated my envy
I have never betrayed
Never disobeyed
You owe me your life
You owe me your life
 
Before the last atomic war
So pathetic than I cried
I had meet togheter the Scientists Council
The danger is your politics
Your presidents are out of order
But before a mad push the red button
Quit the Earth, you've just time !
 
And the Earth, you quitted it
But me, I'm stayed
When you're in space
And I saved you, oh ! oh ! oh !
If you want assassinate me
after what I have done
Me, who loved you
I can make all it blow up
No problem for treating me
You made me
I've learn to cry
I'll learn to kill oh ! oh ! oh !
I've worked so much
I've worked so much
I've worked so much
worked, worked...
 

You Better Don't

And I can as well
Do this exactly like you
Never seeing any care from me
Or a word said tenderly
 
And I can also deal with you in the same attitude
The same I can compliment you & cover your faults
 
You better don't make me go for this
Because I'm sure
Life will be hard like this
And that's why I'm hesitating
 
And actually I also
Have been tired of you for long
And keeping words inside me
Which-- if I said them, it would be hard for you to sleep
 
And I can also annoy you more than you can imagine
But I'm keeping quiet by my own will, hoping you would change
 

Summer at the Lake Balaton

We were sitting on the pier and were watching
how the light on the surface of water is dancing.
We enjoyed how nice is this cliche situation.
We ate hamburger and were waiting
the half past three to come, because we're about to leave.
We leave Upper-Zamardi,
'Cause another Summer has passed at the Lake Balaton.
 
I remember how much I was looking forward
To that blue-eyed girl at the haven of Tihany.
And of course she didn't come, but that's what blue-eyed girls are like.
I sat into a bar and didn't even notice the niveau of the prices.
They brought me the bill and I thought I saw wrong.
 
The vacation flies far away, many memories flash back.
How many times it passed away, yet awaits us again
The summer at the Lake Balaton, the summer at the Lake Balaton.
 
We were sitting in a boat with a girl and
undressed all our chains of moral.
Nobody could see us, because the reed was thick.
I was in love and it would hurt
that girl the truth.
I was looking into her eyes and I said I wasn't married.
 
The vacation flies far away, many memories flash back.
How many times it passed away, yet awaits us again
The summer at the Lake Balaton, the summer at the Lake Balaton.
 

모두가 사랑이에요

모두가 이별이에요
따뜻한 공간과도 이별
수많은 시간과도 이별이지요
이별이지요
 
콧날이 시큰해지고
눈이 아파오네요
이것이 슬픔이란 걸 난 알아요
 
모두가 사랑이에요
사랑하는 사람도 많구요
사랑해준 사람도 많았어요
모두가 사랑이에요
마음이 넓어지고 예뻐질 것 같아요
이것이 행복이란 걸 난 알아요
 
콧날이 시큰해지고
눈이 아파오네요
이것이 슬픔이란 걸 난 알아요
이것이 슬픔이란 걸 난 알아요
 

Ballad of the Mallows

Versions: #3
Silently, the mallows are sleeping
Beneath the glowing moonlight, creeping
But alas, my mother does not dream,
Mother does not dream,
Instead she waits for me
 
Oh sweetest mother, do not wait for me
Don't hope in vain for another sight of me
A lush red mallow has grown from my own heart
Petals blooming red with blood
 
Don't cry, dear mother, you are not alone
There is no end to the mallows war has grown
And in the autumn, they'll whisper in your ear,
'Go to sleep, go to sleep... go to sleep, go to sleep...'
 
Children are the greatest joy for mothers,
Meanwhile my own has only flowers
And down beneath our window's gleam,
Beneath our window's gleam
Her lonely mallows dream
 
At break of sunrise, step out through your door
There will be kneeling at your feet upon the floor
Walk through the field that's filled with mallows lush,
Most gentle to your touch
 
Life is a song with no echo or reply,
But in a mallow my life will pass you by
If you can't feel my caress while you still live,
Please forgive, please forgive... please forgive, please forgive...
 

1991, A night which cold wind blew

1991, A night which cold wind blew
at that year's winter,
white snows fell
enough to cover all over the world.
my little childhood song
which I sang loud,
leaning on a small window was...
as I grow up fast
and become taller,
I've said that I'll always take care of you.
I ask for you
who cannot sleep well
worrying about me,
If the sky allows
and I born again,
please be my proud mother again.
 
For beautiful you
who stood by me and smiled
in joy and in sorrow,
my little childhood wish
which I prayed for overnight,
rubbing my sleepy eyes was...
as I grow up fast
and become taller,
I've said that I'll always take care of you.
I ask for you
who cannot sleep well
worrying about me,
If the sky allows
and I born again,
please be my proud mother again.
 

Однешћу те кући

Знам, иако се правиш као да је све у реду
Знам да си у ишчекивању и да ништа не могу да урадим
Поводом туге у тим очима
Чак иако покушаш да се насмешиш на силу
Могу то да осетим
 
У реду је, немој се извињавати
Довољно је само то што си
Уз мене, не мораш то рећи
Не, у реду је, саслушаћу те
Ако ћеш се тако осећати боље
 
Ја нисам твој момак
Али размисли о мени (требаш ми, девојко)
Ја нисам тај који је твој
Не могу да те згрлим, али ја сам човек
Који има велика леђа на којима те могу однети кући
Однешћу те кући
Ослони се на мене
 
Знам, иако се правиш као да је све у реду
Знам да си у ишчекивању и да ништа не могу да урадим
Поводом туге на тим уснама
Чак иако покушаш да се насмешиш на силу
Могу то да осетим
 
У реду је, немој се извињавати
Само то што си уз мене је довољно
Немој да радиш ово
Не, у реду је
Саслушаћу те како се осећаш
 
Ја нисам твој момак
Али размисли о мени (требаш ми, девојко)
Ја нисам тај који је твој
Не могу да те згрлим, али ја сам човек
Који има велика леђа на којима те могу однети кући
Однешћу те кући
Ослони се на мене
 
Чак и овим бесмисленим речима утехе
(Улио сам ти снаге)
Насмешио сам те, зашто он то не зна?
 
Баш онаквог какав сам
Размисли о мени (волим те, девојко)
Ја нисам тај који је твој
Не могу да те згрлим, али ја сам човек
Који има велико срце које ће те штитити
Однешћу те кући
Ослони се на мене
 
All translations submitted by me are translated by me unless I've provided the source of the original translation. If you spot any grammatical or lexical mistakes in a translation of mine, please contact me so I can fix them.:)

The Ballad of Flemmingrad

In the snowdrift of December I invite you
To where I pay my respects to my troll neighbour.
He was everyone's friend, and someone I loved
This gift to us all was called Flemmingrad.
 
We 'll forget all the years he's been gone
And we'll stuff grass up his nose just for fun!
Up his nose?
This is his face, it shows laughter and grief
He's disgusting!
Flemmy the fungus troll.
 

Without Love and Without Watermelon

Without love and without watermelon
And no passion and no feelings
You're love is now in History (the past)
And we're free from headache
 
I closed my heart after you
I don't want your love anymore
And the heart that you wounded
Lives on his own
 
Without love and without watermelon
And no passion and no feelings
You're love is now in History (the past)
And we're free from headache
 
How beautiful is life with freedom
I'll forget now your love
And the heart that you controlled
I'll finish my life without it
 
Without love and without watermelon
And no passion and no feelings
You're love is now in History (the past)
And we're free from headache
 

Valaam

Versions: #2
Bandages and cotton wool
Are cover up the light
In window of hospital room
Where many have lost all hopes
 
You're so alone
Chained to your dirty beds
We were cruel
And just have had enough of you
 
We're so tired
Of all your caprices and needs
You gave us such a hard time
Your path was alien to us
 
There's no place for your misfortune
On our streets
And the years will sweep away every trace
Towards your exploits
 
In longing and wandering
You believed in tomorrow
But our endeavors
Turn you into the shadows for long ago
 
It wasn't easy for you
To search for the meaning of life and the essence
An abandoned island
Is your last shelter now
 

Stop trying

I'm sick of fools
Who want me for the image (just like that . . . tell 'em, Andreea!)
You have the impression that I don't have a soul
I don't know why (why don't you understand that, in fact, you're different)
I still repeat to myself that you are not like them
That you care about me and you want to win me over
Sorry, but I know, in fact, what you want
You pretend and you bore me
 
Chorus:
Stop trying to charm me
You know very well
That it won't work with me
Make me understand all that you think
When you look into my eyes and tell me
That I've fallen in love with you
 
You call me and you want to talk to me
But you have fancies in your head, you don't get it (don't forget . . . she is Andreea . . . )
Tell me that all that you want
Is you be with me, I don't believe you (you want to succeed if you aren't different . . . )
I'm fed up, you are totally the same as them
Really, you bet that you would win me over
Sorry, but I know, in fact, what you want
You pretend and you bore me
 
If I have made a mistake, please, tell me! Thank you!
Dacă am făcut o greșeală, te rog, spune-mi! Mulțumesc!

Paparazzi

I dream about you and I want you in my mind
I feel your eyes burning
Only the sky will know
That I will love you . . . always
 
You assume a risk, you're a star
Your life isn't a secret
Overnight, you're the subject of a scandal
Everyone wants to know what you're up to,
What you are wearing,
And the sellers
Of the sensational appear . . .
 
Fantasies . . . lucrative fantasies . . .
 
Chorus:
Paparazzi at the pit with money,
And you act genteel there with them,
Paparazzi, you
Are pitbulls with us,
You pose as angels
But you're bad . . .
 
I have a boyfriend . . . he's okay!
But tomorrow, it seems that he's gay
Or that he's with someone else
And everyone knows about them!
If I went to the doctor
They tell me I'm worshipped
And I appear on the front page, at the top.
 
Fantasies . . . lucrative fantasies . . .
 
Chorus:x4
 
If I have made a mistake, please, tell me! Thank you!
Dacă am făcut o greșeală, te rog, spune-mi! Mulțumesc!

The Ballad of the Daltons (greek version)

The story I'm about to tell you is true
Of the most famous cowboy that exists on earth
That will pull his gun faster than his shadow
We all know of your accomplishments
Of Lucky Luke, all the bad guys tremble
He'll catch them and send them to jail in a heartbeat (1)
In this story, he will hunt all the Daltons
Sit down and watch it comfortably
 
They came close to landing the coup of a lifetime
The world thanked Lucky Luke very much
The brothers again had to break stones all day long
And Rantanplan the dog agitated them even more
The Daltons are yet preparing to do harm
On the first occasion, they'll be at it again
For now, they might break earthen stones
But they're always ready to do wrong
 
Night in the desert has fallen heavily
And everyone was sitting around the fire
With words they were trying to persuade Lucky Luke
And some of them were given, to thank him
For the night, dear friends, can hide a lot
Like a coyote that may wake up and scream
But Dolly the mare is very shrewd
And she saves her master every time
 
Nature blossoms, and the weather is great
Butterflies fly under a blue sky
The little river flows gently
The rapids also smile down from above
But suddenly all this beauty comes to a stop
Here the desert begins, and the misfortune
It's an oven that will bake everything
And the sun always burns there, at every moment
 
The heat melts and burns all people
And noone is saved, not even the good guys
And an encampment, that had been right there
Looks now like a lost and empty parking lot
As the only residents found in this place
The snake remains, like this one here
And thirst will torture everyone who'll pass by
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
 
There's no medicine for the fever
That catches all the people who are after gold
They dig, everyone of them, and they dig deep
And when they find a little, they dig yet again
For a few rocks of gold
They all go crazy, as if they had a fever
The whole world is looking for it everywhere
Yes, gold fever is a dangerous disease
 
This is what happens to anyone who dishonors
The bad guys lose, the good guys win
The Dalton's plans made shipwreck again
For the money all went to the orphans
For the heritage of Uncle Dalton
Went now to the poor kids, with god's forgiveness
And now again they play cheerfully
Gos has forgiven Uncle Henry, the old crook
 
So the Daltons went back to jail again
And they came to stay for a long time
Their dreams are still well known
Banks, stagecoaches and money
They thought what they did was dumb
Why did they ask Lucky Luke for his help ?
THe whole world knows that he is
A brave old man and very upright
And hereby, the signer of this writing greets you
 
The heaven for height, and the earth for depth, and the heart of kings is unsearchable. (Prov 25:3 KJV)

Looking At You

Heart knows, though the road is strange
I miss so much
The place where your breath stayed
Then I cannot miss so I hurt
I just put someone
In my eyes, but tears...
You are the reason of my life
 
Because it's fearless love
Because love comes before pain
Even if looking is all I can do,
I cannot throw you away
 
Yesterday too, and today too
Half of me is crazily ruined
No matter how I try
This sorrow doesn't get erased
Even if you don't love me
 
Because nothing can block me
I give everything into this love
Even if eventually ending won't be happy
I am following the way my heart goes
 
You are the reason I live
Even if looking is all I can do,
I cannot let this love out of my hands
 

Tango through glances

When you would call to me, I'd hear you
When you would look at me, I'd feel you
We understood each other through glances
We understood each other through glances
 
Now, I call out to you, you act as if you don't hear me
Now, I gaze at you, but your eyes are mute
We don't speak through our gazes anymore
We don't speak through our gazes anymore
 
Look me in the eye, they tell me
What I couldn't say
Tears bring storms which catch us when we're exposed
 
You set me on fire, and now
We're caught in a crazy dance
Who are we, just ash
And we burn sublimely
A tango through glances
 
The eyes which don't see, don't look
At you, how do you stay quiet
When you're subtlely undressing
Of yourself, in front of me
 
The eyes which don't see, don't look
At you, how do you stay quiet
When you're subtlely undressing
Of yourself, in front of me
 
With our eyes turned to the ground, we look back
At all that we had, all that tied us together
Are just memories of when we spoke of glances
 
Now the dance is muted, we take steps backwards
We have become crumpled, we wear defects and holes
Are just memories of when we spoke through glances
 
You set me on fire, and now
We're caught in a crazy dance
Who are we, just ash
And we burn sublimely
A tango through glances
 
The eyes which don't see, don't look
At you, how do you stay quiet
When you're subtlely undressing
Of yourself, in front of me
 
The eyes which don't see, don't look
At you, how do you stay quiet
When you're subtlely undressing
Of yourself, in front of me
 
Tango through glances
 
If I have made a mistake, please, tell me! Thank you!
Dacă am făcut o greșeală, te rog, spune-mi! Mulțumesc!

The Town Sheikh (Possessed)

Listen to me, this boy
was treated at the town Sheikh,
the Sheikh doctor carefully read the Surat al-Falaq to him (2),
tell him, oh Mr. Sheikh of the youth,
he said, safety, safety, safety (3),
treat and cure us and this boy
from the jinn (4) and all the curses.
 
Safety, safety, safety, safety, safety, safety.
 
Oh sheikh pray in the honor of god and all that rises above me,
safety, safety, safety, safety.
 
On the bed his body ascended when his mom was calling,
'oh Shiekh what happened with this boy, he's not remembering, what is he? a slave? (to the demon) (5)
he returned to consciousness, opened his eyes, and screamed
oh mama! oh mama!
Safety!
 

Mother

Again I dreamed my mother on a holiday...
And wondering boding is buzzing What did that dream mean?
A stool taken out under a mulberry tree like she is awaiting me from somewhere
I dislike it less and less when I'm right...
 
A dream book with bold letters...
That is easy with the dreams...
It's a bit harder when i interpret reality..
 
In the eye dark glare from the wild hazelnut...
And, soon,a new wrinkle, because of the only child, a sinner..
Linden summer dress with sewed details...
Goes along with large spots on a garden bucket..
In a row of lavish gillyflowers... In that dream she's younger than me....
Just like I would like to remember....
 
Oh mother, snow is falling..Neither that makes me happy anymore
It is gone forever...North wind is blowing over wasted land..
Ice has covered calm waters...
And it is stretching away forever...
 
Snowflakes are falling like hordes of minutes that are long gone
Nobody is scared because I'm late..that I haven't returned from the trip yet..
Does the winter have a soul?
The night is barren... That what follows me is not giving up...
 
I rarely meet people from my tribe
They are disappearing in the column from the other side of time...
Cheating whisper of our moral sense can lead us to do evil things...
I wasn't really a son who brings good news..
 
Faces that I love are passing by and I cannot do anything about it
To some strange dream that we will meet in
 
Oh mother, snow is falling..Neither that makes me happy anymore
It is gone forever...North wind is blowing over wasted land..
Ice has covered calm waters...
And it is stretching away forever...
 
Snowflakes are falling like hordes of minutes that are long gone
Nobody is scared because I'm late..that I haven't returned from the trip yet..
Does the winter have a soul?
The night is barren... That what follows me is not giving up...
 

Leave Me Alone, Pretty Nastya

I'm being pursued by Nastassja Kinski
Every day she comes into my dreams
She tells me that she loves me, like really sincerely
And that she's languishing without me
 
I'm slightly worried about this beautiful young woman
I cannot approve of her stance
She keeps my picture like some infatuated teenager
My picture, in her wallet
 
It's all very nice and very flattering
But my face is not made for disguises
My views about those things are old-fashioned
Leave me alone, comrade Kinski
 
It's not your fault, don't take it personally
It's about principles or something like that
I was born for another woman
Leave me alone, pretty Nastya
 
I cannot understand what she sees on me
Except that I'm tall, handsome and blond1
As soon as I open my mouth, her face turns red
And she rushes to smooch me
 
Her gaze sweeps men off their feet
But I'm resisting as best I can
She hugs me strongly, all Greco-Roman2
She wants to kiss me movie-style
 
Slow down lassie, hold your fire
Just go back to your rotten West3
To Paris, Texas and among Cat People
I'm not going anywhere from Bačka4.
 

• 1. He's actually short and chubby
• 2. As in Greco-Roman wrestling
• 3. As in rotten capitalist West
• 4. The region where Novi Sad is located

I Wasn't Right For Her

She liked classic music and jazz
She mostly read Pearl Buck
Her great-grandfather was a Russian prince
He came all the way from the Urals
 
I wasn't right for her
I wasn't right for her
No never was I right for her
I wasn't right for her
 
She saw mostly the entire world
London, Paris, Amsterdam and Rome
She drove a blue Renault 5
She drove it quite decently
 
But anyway, I wasn't right for her
I wasn't right for her
I wasn't right for her
I wasn't right for her
 
She lived like a watch
A strict plan for every day
She wanted to know it all
What's happening, who's with whom?
 
I'm a completely different kind
Oh, so wonderfully free
I don't give a damn about her jet set
So, that's it
 
It wouldn't have been much of a marriage
When the wife's idol is uncle Freud
While her husband is superficial and lightweight
Football, Coca Cola and Pink Floyd
 
Oh, mama, I wasn't right for her
I wasn't right for her
No, really, I wasn't right for her
I wasn't right for her
 
We run into each other occasionally
She asks me what I'm doing now
She tells me in short lines
What's happening, who's with whom
 
I tell her that I grieve
Play cards and drink a lot
Hang out with clouds
She says: It's your own fault
 
But anyway, I wasn't right for her
I wasn't right for her
No, really, I wasn't right for her
I wasn't right for her
 

Boža The Jack

This is a story that I very much enjoy telling
It's the story of Boža AKA The Jack.
Some sing him praises, others pity him
Yet others say: 'Oh, brother,
He was as rotten as a decayed tooth.'
 
From here all the way to Budapest and to Srem in the south
Stories about him are still told in shady gambling circles
And they say: 'He never played on credit in his life!'
And they all agree that these days
There are none like Boža The Jack
 
He had some land somewhere, that was more-or-less known
Even though he never said a word about it
He was supposed to be a veterinarian, but he was always pigheaded
So he lived off gambling all his life
 
Oh, that man followed cards as if he saw through them
Always cool as spritzer, always dangerously silent
And only when warding off bad luck he'd say a verse
And everybody still remembers the words for warding off bad luck
As said by Boža The Jack
 
It's no use having money, my nephews*
It's no use being eager
Nor gazing sternly nor having sticky fingers
I still cheat a little better
 
Oh, yeah!
 
But the card is a whore, excuse my French
Because I just tell it as I hear it
And if I was lied to, then I'm lying to you now
 
Everybody knows this story, from the devil to the priest
Because many scoundrels were left with nothing
There's a gambler hiding and lurking in every one of us
And waiting for the right moment
 
He once played cards with some Russian emigrant
That was a loan shark as rich as a prince
There was also the post office manager, endearingly called Ljupče
And some smuggler that the whole district was looking for
 
Oh, that was a game, stories are still told
Onlookers in trance, cold sweat breaking
A heap of money on the table, let's not mention the amount
And he drew a queen on eighteen*
Cool as ice, Boža The Jack
 
Have you heard about the time when he played with a certain baron
For four days? That was war!
He had strong cards all the time, so he won a carriage
A black horse, a cigarette case, a walking stick and a watch
 
The baron later complained that the deck was old
That he drank too much, that he was caught up in the excitement
But all the losers moan, that's a well known thing
And everybody loses at least sometimes
But never Boža The Jack
 
It's no use having money, my nephews
It's no use being eager...
 
In gigolo matters, he was no Tarzan
But he was by no means a hare
He had some ladies here and there, but we all know very well
That what counts with women is some fifth ace
 
Love is a game in which bluffing often doesn't work
A heart is harder to get into than the best safe
He had his ladies of diamonds, spades, hearts and clubs
And he remained faithful to them
Until the judgement day, Boža The Jack
 
My dear gentlemen, he disappeared without a trace
Giving the whole story a weird tone
Some horse traders swore that near Sombor they met
Some guy that looked exactly like him
 
Maybe cards took him all the way to Prague or Vienna
Nobody's heard a word about him for a long time
Is he still hanging around on Earth or has he thrown in the towel
And now plays with angels in heaven
Raub, Préférence and Pontoon*
 
It's no use having money, my nephews
It's no use being eager...
 

Panonian sailor

I'm looking at Banat, Srem and Bačka
From the top of Fruška Gora
I'm looking, and there's turmoil in my soul
There was, according to books, a sea here once
It waited for me and then it dried up
 
I'm a born mariner like Magellan
Or even better, like Admiral Cook
In this plain among the fields I'm losing hope
A sea dog marooned in the cornfields
 
My sea doesn't exist
And I don't know what to do
My old man says that Danube isn't bad either
 
My sea doesn't exist, but
I still live in hope
That maybe someday we will meet again
 
My life is therefore bitter like tonic water
My despair is endless and bottomless
But luckily, there's Moon the lighthouse
Guiding me through the blue waters of dreams
 
Oh, why did it have to happen to me
I don't know should I cry or should I laugh
Some sailors maybe lose their ships
But to lose a sea is exceptionally bad luck
 
My sea doesn't exist...
 

The ballad of the eternal shy guy

You looked at her once in an evening
with no reason.
It was just boredom,
no feeling.
 
But in the crowd at the bar,
of all of them, she shone
took your breath away, solitarely
how she smiled...
 
And you seem like you want to get up
and tell her something
Maybe with her it will be better
for you...
 
You struggle suddenly
for a girl and her mistery
you think at what shirt you have home
in the hanger
You look for words to start
But you know you're not good at it
You got no flower in the hand
and then, what can you give her?
 
But, although you can get up
tell her something
Maybe with her it will be better
for you...
 
If you can. you'd stop next to her
and tell her how you dreamed about her
If she'd want, you'd stay with her
to look at her, to hear her heart
 
And you seem you'd want to get up
and tell her something
Maybe with her it will be better
for you...
 
But although you can get up
and tell her something
Maybe with her it will be better
(much better) for you...
 
And you seem you'd want to get up
and tell her something
Maybe with her it will be better
 

Ballad

Adda, Ballad, I am
Adda, Ballad, and I sing to you
 
This song is just a ballad
Dear Adda, you make sad songs, a whole bunch
About boys who leave at night in a hurry
And girls who continuously ask
Where is that fairy-tale love?
With princes and fairies who love
With superhuman force
I don't know who you are, but I sing to you
From here in Bucharest.
 
I am at home, in my bed
I write a ballad about my soul
Where I, where I loved
Where I cried when I suffered
 
And my song is just a ballad
My song is just a ballad,
So that you never forget,
So that you never forget,
My song is just a ballad,
My song is just a ballad,
So that you know that it was written once upon a time
By a girl.
 
Adda, Ballad . . .
 

Call me

(Call me, call me)
You're the pruned branch
in the tree of my dreams,
the love which is nothing anymore
but it's you.
 
Call me, call me if you cry
call me if you lose your way in life
always count on me
as the friend who never forgets you.
 
Call me, call me if you suffer
call me if you feel like the world is forsaking you
call me and your sin will be forgotten
with only saying ''come''.
 
Call me if you need me,
if you see the abyss open at your feet
call me if you feel lost
but don't ask me to believe in you again.
 
Call me if you need me,
if you see the abyss open at your feet
call me if you feel lost
but don't ask me to believe in you again.
 
Call me if you cry,
if you need me, call me.
 
Just learning.

The swing isn't bad in Paris

FG: I was born there
MB: not in Memphis
FG: I'm from Paris
MB: Not a higher-up1
FG: I never knew Cab Calloway
MB: I never produced anything on Broadway
FG: I know Passy2
MB: not Albany
FG: I'm no Yankee
MB: You're a true Parisian3
FG: I'm not the jingo type4
MB: Not all is good in Ohio
 
Both: The swing isn't bad5 in Paris
Both: The swing isn't bad
Both: The swing isn't bad in Paris
Both: There's swing [there] too
(x2)
 
FG: I wanna do a show
 
MB: I'd be happy to
FG: Put something new [in it]
MB: This is all I want
FG: But I don't want to mimic Ginger Rogers
MB: Why always America first6?
FG: West Side Story
MB: is dead and gone
FG:
MB: That was nice
FG: But I want to do something really personal
MB: We'll have to work, but why not?
 
Both: The swing isn't bad in Paris
Both: The swing isn't bad
Both: The swing isn't bad in Paris
Both: There's swing [there] too
(x2)
 
MB: tapdancing is a thing of the past
Both: The Metro Goldwin Mayer is no longer the best7
 
Both: The swing isn't bad in Paris
Both: The swing isn't bad
Both: The swing isn't bad in Paris
Both: There's swing [there] too
(x2)
 
The swing isn't bad
The swing isn't bad
The swing isn't bad in Paris
There's swing [there] too
The swing isn't bad
The swing isn't bad
The swing isn't bad
There's swing [there] too
 

• 1. that could be understood as 'pas [fils/fille] de famille'(the son/daugher of a whealthy familiy) or simply '[je n'ai] pas de famille'(I've got no family)
• 2. a wealthy near suburb of Paris
• 3. 'titi' is a kind of archetype for Paris inhabitants
• 4. lit. 'I'm not all for cock-a-doodle-doos'. An allusion to the cockerel, France's national symbol, in a slightly derisive way
• 5. could be read as 'there's quite a bit of swing in Paris', but the other meaning is valid too, and easier to translate
• 6. Not exactly the current meaning. Trump was a long way from becoming president at the time
• 7. couldn't really mimic the assonance 'Mayer / meilleure'

This translation does not claim to be of any particular value.
Glad if you liked it, sorry if you didn't.
You can reuse it as you please.
Glad if it's for knowledge or understanding, sorry if it's just for money or fame.

The Ballad of Flemmingrad (Traditional Ver.)

There was a loyal a dearest troll,
who was loved by his great goodness.
This is Flemmingrad's song,
here he was greatly loved by all 'Slashtrois'.
 
They would give him foiegras, mold stew
and so he gobbled them down passionately.
How big was Flemmingrad!
He replenished his tummy in happiness.
 
And all of them saw him rolling down!
Laughing, he rolled down non-stop!
 
In a Winter's day, he saw human coming
and them trolls quickly rolled away.
However, giant Flemmingrad,
among the mountains he went to pasture.
 
People frightened, they wielded a sword
and Flemmy from the fjord, he never got out.
This is Flemmingrad's song!
There, he got trapped in for eternity.
 
Voice: In the shadows, but unforgotten.
 
Flemmy was never to roll down ever again!
Oh! Flemmy never rolled down again!
 
Voice: So, we celebrate this tradition.
 
In every December, everyone's assembled
to offer their respects to a troll.
Remembering for a friendship
as we all call as Flemmingrad.
 
His ancestors we were to find,
his nostrils we were to shave off.
In memorian we always build
the Big Flemmingrad's statue.
 
God bless his soul up in the sky!
Oh, Flemmy! The fungus-troll.
 

A good gig/party

Versions: #1
My car is washed-clean already, the [car] stereo system is set up just right
Everything is ready, come with me, ['cause] the sound here is first-rate
Girl, don't be shy, jump in [the car] and celebrate
Just ring me later, I'll love it, so let's go...
 
Honey, ring me, there's gonna be party tonight
I want to enjoy it with you ['till] late in the night
To dance and jump,
Until the sun comes out
 
Honey, ring me, there's gonna be party tonight
I want to enjoy it with you ['till] late in the night
To dance and jump,
Because tonight there's going to be
 
The 'tche tchererere tche tcheche'
Tcherere tche tche,
Tcherere tche tche,
Tchereretche
Tche, tche, tche,
Gustavo Lima and you
 
If you look at me, I'll want to touch you
And next, to make out with you, to have fun
Because tonight there's going to be
 
Honey, ring me, there's gonna be party tonight
I want to enjoy it with you ['till] late in the night
To dance and jump,
Until the sun comes out
 
Honey, ring me, there's gonna be party tonight
I want to enjoy it with you ['till] late in the night
To dance and jump,
Because tonight there's going to be
 
The 'tche tchererere tche tcheche'
Tcherere tche tche,
Tcherere tche tche,
Tchereretche
Tche, tche, tche,
Gustavo Lima and you
 

Caucasian ballad

I look at the beautiful blue sky over Chechnia,
And it's like the Sun opened its fan.
Gloomy towers are singing out
with Banu for the ancient Ghilgo .
 
My heart's been stolen by Kistina,
And my soul wants to flee to her.
Mother Chiukhi will not stop me,
I'll run away from Mikhto tonight.
 
I'll cover you with a burka (coat) till the morning,
I'll bring a horse without a trace on snow.
My dear (lying in my arms), trust me,
And I will clothe your frozen hands.
 
If my pursuer (enemy) reaches me
And Lashari's wish comes true,
Always remember that I loved you,
I never was a liar or a coward.
 
When there's darkness in my eyes
And I return my soul to Christ, Son of God,
My fatherland will mourn over my (dead) body,
And my heart will still miss Kistina.
 

Wish Upon a Star (별빛 바램)

I held tight onto this time
This moment that seemed would last forever
The break up that followed love
Pushes me out as if it was planned
You always smiled
My foolishness makes me think that you’ll still greet me
My love left for a faraway journey
Now it’s the end
 
When my tears (my tears)
Become starlight (following the memories)
And shine brightly over there
Maybe you’ll see from somewhere
So every night, I become the starlight and shine
 
Memories of wanting to find you
Give me hope that you might return
But my hopes can’t endure
I guess it’s really over
 
Traces that resemble you
Stop me (stop me)
They say it’s no use even if I wait
 
When my tears (my tears)
Become starlight (following the memories)
And shine brightly over there
Maybe you’ll see from somewhere
So every night, I become the starlight and shine
 
In the sky (resembles you)
The countless stars
They’re my longing of not being able to reach you
 
Tears hide the starlight
 
When my sadness (my sadness)
Become rain (with the memories)
And fall in your heart
Maybe you’ll come back to me
So today, I become rain and fall
 

The Moira

The mysterious Moira,
Like a spider versed in subtle arts,
Empties her distaff time and time again,
Creating the threads for our lives.
 
As one of Parcae, she is deep in thought
As she weaves tomorrow's fabric:
The Moira spins and spins,
The Moira shall keep spinning.
 
Like a Fate, she is deep in thought
As she weaves tomorrow's fabric:
The Moira spins and spins,
The Moira shall keep spinning.
 
Turning her sight back
The looks into the shadows of the past
And finds out where next Spring's
Seed, lies hidden.
 
She knows that a tree grows taller
The deeper its roots can go:
The Moira spins and spins,
The Moira shall keep spinning.
 
She knows that a tree grows taller
The deeper its roots can go:
The Moira spins and spins,
The Moira shall keep spinning.
 
Out of old traditions and brand new hopes
She weaves the flag of tomorrow's youth,
As one who would weave a bridal veil
With gold and silver hair.
 
For childhood, which is rising,
For old age, which is fading,
The Moira spins and spins,
The Moira shall keep spinning.
 
For childhood, which is rising,
For old age, which is fading,
The Moira spins and spins,
The Moira shall keep spinning.
 

Urban Yearning

Morning. Five hours and thirty minutes a.m. Leaving the clubs, urban young people go home. At this time that the most strange thoughts come to mind, but the main thing is not to fall into the zone of urban yearning.
 
Road dust spills on the highway.
The sun rises - the cars are extinguished.
There are factories, pipes, soot, city.
This sweaty zone is controlled by the weather.
Yes Yes. The houses decorate with the wall patterns.
Dirty words fray the fences.
Word, word by word, oil burning in the fire.
There ' no smoke without fire, there is no suit without fire.
The flame burns in the distance.
Morning sirens destroy the dreams of love.
Freedom is dripping from the cranes in the cellars.
There's too much black sellers at every corner.
Old districts looks fashionable.
It's not difficult to understand the gangster bases.
Writers write cruel novels to readers.
Sluts crawl out to work at night.
Announcements on the screens tell tales.
All the new women on the screens are flashing their eyes.
Advertisements are colorful, fade, then turning gray.
The streets darken under thick clouds of smoke.
 
City, dust, city dirt.
We're drowning in the swamp, holding our hands.
Urban yearning loves me.
A lonely light will wake.
What to do when...? What to do when...?
What to do when...? What to do?
Yearning is calling somewhere far away.
 
The black cloud has entered, as a fragment, in thought, melts, melts.
Only the lightning beam, where it beats, doesn't disassemble.
It only takes the select ones. It pulls, pulls into the dead lights.
Living meltwater drips from the mountains.
The rain is pouring down against everyone and reminds:
It depends on the event on the street that will come true, play inside.
The cry in me says: 'Run.'
The bird hovers above the houses, it freezes in the stone.
A lonely car flew past quickly.
A slight smell of gasoline hit in the head.
The thoughts fly away like the wind, leave,
Swim over the night mountains.
The original moves we solve programs
Early in the morning, early in the morning, in the afternoon, in the evening, in the night.
Strangely, we're bound by a loop, but far from each other.
We're flooded with a tear of city night anguish.
 
City, dust, city dirt.
We're drowning in the swamp, holding our hands.
Urban yearning loves me.
A lonely light will wake.
What to do when...? What to do when...?
What to do when...? What to do?
Yearning is calling somewhere far away.
 
My morning walk gives strength to faith.
I'm a lonely fire, I want to burn, at least.
The light path indicates exactly at night.
The morning rays bind me firmly
With the urban world of garbage, swamp, mud.
Every scum ready to teach of life.
Anyone can, but not me.
I know what the 'dead water of the rain' is.
Gray dust lies on the dead stones.
Night streets scare people.
Fire in the hands, absolute rest inside.
A lonely light at night says with longing.
Anguish is calling somewhere far away.
Anguish is calling me somewhere in the distance.
Anguish is calling somewhere far away.
Anguish is calling me somewhere in the distance.
The streets woke up, the shadows returned to the houses.
Problems are debated, advertisements are troubled,
The bogs are caught, they are drowned in time.
Who believes in the fire - seeks and finds.
 
City, dust, city dirt.
We're drowning in the swamp, holding our hands.
Urban yearning loves me.
A lonely light will wake.
What to do when...? What to do when...?
What to do when...? What to do?
Yearning is calling somewhere far away.
 
Tibor from QS-FB