Текст и перевод песни Bap - Wat schriev mer en su'enem Fall

Wat schriev mer en su'enem Fall

Vier Uhr ess et, morjens, Ende Dezember. Ich schriev, weil ich wesse will: Jeht et dir besser? Die Stadt ess jetz kalt, wat öm die Zick normal ess un trotzdämm Musik, jenachdämm wo du langjehs. Stemmp et, datt′e Huus baus, irjendwo, wo keiner dich kennt un dat du ahn nix mieh gläuvs, als Nirjendwo-Mann erömrenns? Jane kohm heim met ner Art Souvenir un saat, dat hätt se vun dir, sick dä Naach, als du lossleets bei ihr, kohms du je loss vun ihr? Als ich dich zoletz troof, do soochste nit joot uss, Räänmantel, Turnschoh, et Hemp uss der Bozz eruss, leefs jraad zum Bahnhof: "Nur jo nit verpasse, falls sie jraad hück ahnkütt!" ...ir'ndsujet saatste. Un wenn du dohmols en Frau hatts, mieh uss Zofall, als ir′ndwie jeplant, wollts du nix vun ihr hühre, nur spüre, wofür du bezahlt. Ich sinn dich met dä Ruus zwesche dä Zäng, dämm Ring uss Jold, dä dir'm Uhr hängk, en ner Bilderbooch-Naach, ich hühr noch wie se laach. Wat kann ich dir saare, Mann, wat soll ich saare? Wat schriev mer en su enem Fall? Gläuv fass, ich vermess dich, verzeih dir. Wie maach et dir jonn, Mann? Nä, da's nit ejal! Hey, wenn du jemohls vorbei küss, he bei Jane oder bei mir, will ich, dat du ein Saach weiß: Ich benn lange keine Feind mieh vun dir, denn ich dank dir dofür, dat du se befreit, ich hann et kapiert, deit mer leid.
Hätt et selvs nie probiert, tja, ess einijes passiert sick dohmols, du met dä Bloom en dä Zäng, dich hatt uns dä Himmel jeschenk. Ich sinn, Jane weed jraad wach. "Schöne Jrooß!" sähtse′n laach.

What do you write in such a case

It's four in the morning, the end of December. I'm writing because I want to know: Are you better now? The city is cold now, which is normal for this time of year, and yet the music depends what you're into. I understand that you're building a house somewhere where nobody knows you and that you don't believe in anything anymore, just wandering around as a nowhere man? Jane came home with a kind of souvenir and said that she had it from you, that night after you left her, did you escape from her? When I last met you, you didn't look good, raincoat, sneakers, your shirt hanging out of your pants, you were walking straight to the station: "Just don't miss it, in case she arrives today!" you said something. And if you had a wife back then, more by chance than by any kind of plan, you didn't want to hear from her, just feel what you were paying for. I see you with a rose between your teeth, that gold ring hanging from your watch, on a picture-book night, I can still hear her laugh. What can I tell you, man, what should I tell you? What do you write in such a case? I think, I size you up, forgive you. How are you doing, man? No, it's not unimportant! Hey, if you ever drop by, at Jane's or at my place, I want you to know one thing: I've long since stopped being your enemy, because I thank you for setting her free, I've worked it out, I'm sorry.
Would never have tried it myself. Yes, some things happened back then, you with the flower between your teeth, heaven had sent you to us. I can see Jane's just waking up. "Good morning!" she says, laughing.