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No Tears

How easy being in love is
at the age of twenty,
at the age of twenty.
And how easy falling out of love is
at the age of twenty.
 
I was hugging winds,
I was kissing rains.
I was rolling in meadows
of wet tenderness,
of wet tenderness.
 
And when they'd push me
into the bottomless 'Goodbye',
I thought I was dying,
I thought I was dying,
I thought I was dying...
 
But I've been saved
by those nets
of young sunbeams.
And my face was laughing,
cold from the dried tears.
 
Girls like magic
were swirling around me.
And the freedom, I've felt it the most
after the pain of separation.
 
But how frightful being in love is
at the age of forty,
at the age of forty.
And how frightful falling out of love is
at the age of forty.
 
No pain, no magic, no tears.
Separation brings no freedom.
And I don't think I'm dying,
and I don't think I'm dying,
and I don't think I'm dying ...
 
No pain, no magic, no tears.
Separation brings no freedom.
And I don't think I'm dying,
and I don't think I'm dying,
and I don't think I'm dying ...
 

Love is a mirage

In the green pine trees
under the olive tree
at the moonlit pale alleys
or the beaches
 
How many desperate people
with a sullen look
because the poor guys belived
in the word ''i love you''
 
This word is a witch
which has many beaties
with aroma it loses it becomes a delusion
when you say it over and over
 
Love is a mirage
which rules the youth
filled with golden smoke
with passing dreams
Beacuse in the world is poured
ink and blood
but there is no life
without that sweet lie
 

My strong woman

My strong woman
Doesn’t joke.
When she loves, she does just this.
When she is jealous, she feels just this.
 
I’m not sure whether
I can say that exactly,
But my destiny is
In my strong woman.
 
She wordless controls
My male shirts,
My male hopes,
My male caprices.
 
Being furious or smiling,
But never indifferent,
Slowly and glad I’m getting near
To my strong woman.
 
And if I ran away by chance
My implemented in her
Male soul
Would return me always.
 
She is joyful and ripe,
She looks at the world,
She is in the female body of
My strong woman.
 

Мртав изнутра

Једном, када си ме волела, питала си ме једног јутра,
током разговора, шта је живот.
Ја сам се тада окренуо ка теби и рекао да је за неке то вино,
за друге је то слава, за треће је то богатство, а за мене то си ти.
За друге је то слава, за треће је то богатство, а за мене то си ти.
 
Сада кад се твоје срце променило и кад волиш другог,
питам се како моје и даље куца.
Можда има још неких као што сам ја –
мртав изнутра, жив споља.
Мртав изнутра, жив споља.
 
(превео Гаврило Дошен)