Текст и перевод песни Hazard - Marie, ne piši pesmi več

Marie, ne piši pesmi več

Ljubka je pomlad iz najstniških balad,
Ko v zraku je, imam te rad.
Zasukal sem Marie, bilo je en, dva, tri – takrat.
Skrajšal sem roman, srce je pač cigan,
Marie pa še drhti od sanj;
še danes vidim jo, ko tole ji v slovo igram.
Marie, življenje ni cvetoče polje,
Marie, ko gledaš zvezde zreš v vesolje.
Sij neonskih luči, ubija čar noči,
Marie, ne piši pesmi več!
Marie, pomlad je tu, da vzklije žito,
Marie, v šumenju vetra nič ni skrito.
Pozabi vonj dobrav, mehkobo zrelih trav,
Marie, ne piši pesmi več!
Mimo je pomlad iz najstniških balad,
Ne grem se več, imam te rad.
Drugače vidim svet, računarju poet ni brat.
Človek se sveta, ki obvladati se zna,
Srce se pa še zdaj ne da,
A bolj ko plameni, glasneje mu Marie igra.
Srce, življenje ni cvetoče polje,
Srce, ko gledaš zvezde zreš v vesolje.
Sij neonskih luči, ubija čar noči,
Marie, ne piši pesmi več!
Srce, pomlad je tu, da vzklije žito,
Srce, v šumenju vetra nič ni skrito.
Pozabi vonj dobrav, mehkobo zrelih trav,
Srce, ne piši pesmi več!
Marie, ne piši pesmi več!

Marie, Don't Write Songs Anymore

Spring is lovely in teenage ballads,
When in the air, I love you.
I twirled Marie, it was one, two, three – then.
I shortened the novel, my heart is a gypsy,
Marie still trembles with dreams;
Even today I see her when I play this farewell for her.
Marie, life is not a flower field,
Marie, when you look at the stars you look into space.
The glow of neon lights, kills the charm of the night,
Marie, don't write songs anymore!
Marie, spring is here for the wheat to sprout,
Marie, nothing is hidden in the rustling of the wind.
Forget the scent of groves, the softness of ripe grass,
Marie, don't write songs anymore!
Spring is over from teenage ballads,
I won't go anymore, I love you.
I see the world differently, a poet is not a brother to a computer.
A human being of the world, who knows how to control it,
The heart still won't give up,
But the louder it burns, the louder it plays Marie.
Heart, life is not a flower field,
Heart, when you look at the stars you look into space.
The glow of neon lights, kills the charm of the night,
Marie, don't write songs anymore!
Heart, spring is here for the wheat to sprout,
Heart, nothing is hidden in the rustling of the wind.
Forget the scent of groves, the softness of ripe grass,
Heart, don't write songs anymore!
Marie, don't write songs anymore!