Nekako s proljeća
uvijek meni doluta
neka čežnja tamna
tiha mudrost davna
Spuštam ja stare kofere
na perone sudbine
To je miris zrelih godina
Moj kaput baš je težak najdraža
Nekako s proljeća
ja se sjetim starih drugova
Probude se u meni
svi derneci pijani
Tad nosim stare cipele
one znaju moje ulice
To je boja crnoponoćna
Moji koraci baš su teški najdraža
I opet taj osjećaj samoće
kad neće nikog mene krene i hoće
I opet mrakom svoje pjesme bojim
pijan od želje, za usnama tvojim
Sav sam ti od ludila
nekako s proljeća
Nekako s proljeća
sjeti mene nepravda
na pobjede, poraze
i sve lažne obzire
Napravim račun praštanja
popijem pusta maštanja
To je ukus lijepog kajanja
Moji kapci baš su teški najdraža
Nekako s proljeća
noć mi oči otvara
Nemam san da uhvatim
Nema dana da ne izgubim
A hoću, da te vodim ja
tragom sunca, jugom maslina
To je dodir tvojih bedara
Moja duša baš te voli najdraža
Sav sam ti od ludila
bez tebe s proljeća
English Translation
In The Springtime, Somehow
In the springtime, somehow
An ancient wisdom, softly,
With dark longing beside,
Gets me from the inside.
I drop an old suitcase
Down to the platform of fate,
It’s a scent of a mature age,
My coat is a heavy one, oh, the dearest one.
In the springtime, somehow,
I recall the friends of mine.
All the parties we have had
Inside of me raise their heads.
I put on my good old shoes then,
For they know which paths to trace.
They are painted in midnight black,
My pace is a slow one, oh, the dearest one.
The sense of loneliness comes over again,
It gets hold of no one but me.
I paint my songs black over again,
Drunk of desire for the lips of thee.
I am out of my mind,
In the springtime, somehow.
In the springtime, somehow,
Injustice makes me recall
All I won and all I lost,
All of a fake consideration.
I get the account of forgiving done,
I drink up vain fantasies
Tasting like fair regret
My eyes are hard to be opened wide
Oh, the dearest one.
In the springtime, somehow,
Night opens my eyes.
To fall asleep, there is no way,
I lose each and every day.
And I want us to follow
The south full of olives and sunbeams that flow,
Incited by the touch of your thigh
My soul is full of you,
Oh, the dearest one.
The sense of loneliness comes over again,
It gets hold of no one but me.
I paint my songs black over again,
Drunk of desire for the lips of thee.
I am out of my mind,
In the springtime, somehow
I am out of my mind
Without you by my side.