Paroles et traduction Wohnout - Pedro se vraci - live

Pedro se vraci - live

Hej, Pedro, vstávej!
...jó
Sombréro za kačku jde na dračku a slunce zapadá
Tě péro panáčku, si doma, svlíkneme tě do naha
Seňore si doma, aroma na zuby jahodový
Košile naruby a na noze galoše lidový
Estráda na udice naše ryby trochu vycuká
No to je paráda revoluce za okny vypuká
Seňore si doma aroma jahodama zavoní
Seňore, si doma, na ulici tě slzy dohoní

Sombréro za kačku jde na dračku a slunce zapadá
Pedro se vrátil domů a mě na ulici napadá
Kdo lidi jahodama do syta naplno nakrmí?
Lidi za vodama a za řekama tiše zakrní

Když se mě ptaj
Hovada blbý
Na to, co znaj
Tak blekotaj

Tak blekotaj
Hovada blbý
Proto se ptaj
Na jinotaj

Střádal střízlík doma
Kouzelný aroma
Střídal zámky ve dveřích
Spřádal plán na stole
čmáral tam, na sto let
S výhledem na pobřeží
říznul kůru stromu
Slíznul fůru, domů
Kaučuk v nůši odnosí
A dál schoval za ploty
Louky půl prahmoty
Bídu stírat nemusí

A to ho baví
A chtěl by vám říci
že znamínko velikosti
Mexickýho tolaru
Bude mý

Pedro se vraci - live

Hey, Pedro, wake up!
...my
The one-buck sombrero's selling well and the sunset's here
That peacock feather, my sweet, you're home, let's get you naked
The gentleman is home, strawberry flavored on your teeth
The shirt's on backwards and folk galoshes on your feet
The fishing rod of a circus will fish out our fish a bit
Oh, that's a blast, a revolution's breaking out by the windows
The gentleman is home, the aroma of strawberries will waft
Gentleman, you're home, on the street you'll be caught in a flood of tears

The one-buck sombrero's selling well and the sunset's here
Pedro's come back home and on the street it comes to my mind
Who'll fully feed people with strawberries to their heart's content?
People over the waters and over the rivers fade away quietly

When they ask me
The cattle are dumb
About what they know
Well, they bleat

So they bleat
The cattle are dumb
That's why they ask
About metaphor

The finch hoarded at home
Magical aroma
He changed the locks on the doors
He wove a plan on the table
Scribbled there, for a hundred years
With a view of the coast
He cut the bark of a tree
He scarfed a load, home
He'll carry off a knapsack of rubber
And he hid away behind fences
Half the primeval forest glades
He doesn't need to scratch out a living

And he loves that
And he'd like to tell you
That a sign the size of
A Mexican silver dollar
Will be mine