Paroles et traduction Bap - Alexandra, Nit Nur Do

Alexandra, Nit Nur Do

ALEXANDRA, NIT NUR DO

'T bliev länger hell jetz – obwohl: 't ess immer noch Februar
Ne Winter he's ausschließlich lästich
Wie dä Matsch, dä als Schnie uss schwere Wolken singe Wääsch nohm
Tänzerinne, nevvebei – nur öm ze stirve, he om lauwrme Asphalt
Kamikaze en 'ner Stadt, wo jede Hilferoof bloß unjehührt verhallt

Alexandra, jevv et zo:
Mancheiner föhlt sich he em Stech jelooße
Alexandra, nit nur do

Mir fällt en Strooß enn
Die vun Ostende bess Mekka quer durch Europa als E5 führt
Wigger wohr ich noch nie
Trotz all dä Breefe, die 'sch jeschrivve un nie affjescheck
Doch für die do "Entschuldijung!" Nohporto zahle mohts
All die Errol Flynn-Visione – für jed' einz'lne däät si't lohne

Sensatione mein ich, nit Madame Toussaud!
Do johvs mir Bruht un Spiele, Alexandra, ich weiß schon
Do föhls dich wie ne ussrangierte Weihnachtsbaum noh Neujohr
Wie 'n Aapeinsel ennzesinn stund ich vüür dir
Un Aug en Aug kunnt ich dich lese wie e opjeschlaare Boch

Et deit mir leid dovun ze singe, bloß op Dauer, Alexandra
Wohr dat och wohl nit jenooch
All Zer'monie, Beschwörunge un Rituale
Ding Cohen-Plaate, Jacques Brél-Sampler un Spazierjäng em Rähn
Dann die rührende Versuche, affzeschöddele die Tristesse
Die wohren aussichtslos, die braaten't wirklich nit
Denn eins ess sicher wie et Amen:
Dat wo suvill Kirche stonn, et "hundert Pro" en janze Hääd ze Bichte jitt
Nach oben

Alexandra, Nothing More Than That

Alexandra, Nothing More Than That

It stays light longer now, even though it's still February
A winter here is only a nuisance
Like snow slush falling from heavy clouds and melting on your clothes
Dancers along the roadside, only to die on the warm asphalt
Kamikazes in a city where every cry for help goes unheard

Alexandra, it is so:
Some feel lost in the lurch
Alexandra, not only here

A street comes to my mind
That leads from Ostende to Mecca as the E5 through Europe
I was never a slacker
Despite all the letters I wrote and never sent
But here you have my "Excuse me!" I'll pay the additional postage
All those Errol Flynn fantasies - each one would be worth it for

Sensations, I mean, not a Madame Toussaud!
There you gave me bread and games, Alexandra, I know
You felt like a Christmas tree that had outlived its time
Like an apeling that stood by itself
And I saw right through you, like an open book

I'm sorry to sing about it, but after all, Alexandra
That wasn't enough, was it?
All the processions, speeches and rituals
Your Cohen records, Jacques Brel's legacy and walks in the rain
Then the pathetic attempts to shake off the misery
They were hopeless, they didn't work at all
Because one thing is certain, like the Bible:
Where there are so many churches, there are a hundred percent more sins to confess
To the sky