Текст и перевод песни Marika Gombitova - Cirkusový Kon

Cirkusový Kon

Starý je a už si zvykol
Na zvedavých zákazníkov
Každý večer o pol ôsmej
Hopsá deťom valčík o sne

Starý je a v jeho hrive
Padajú už snehy clivé
Rozblikané svetlá slávy
Nemenil by za hrsť trávy

Hole hej on pozná v mestách
Na lúke však nikdy nestál
Bol tak slávny krásnym behom
Voľne sa však neprebehol

Zato pozná žiale zvierat
Nedajú sa ničím zmerať
Ten plač tigra ten rev slonov
Za domovom za domovom

Zato pozná dobre mreže
žirafí pár ako veže
Bič po ktorom koža bolí
Fígle opíc mačku Polly

Ach ten koník nemá slová
Možno že by vravel znova
Prečo chvostom na svet máva
A ušami postriháva

Ach ten koník menom Žany
Mám ho stále pred očami
Bol tak bledý bol tak biely
Keď sa klaňal naposledy

Ach tak koník pridal číslo
Aby sa mu ľahšie išlo
Na ten druhý koní svet
Kde jak anjel bude smieť
Bežať voľne víriť prach
Na nebeských pastvinách

To je koniec to je všetko
Balia cirkus zatrú štetcom
Zožltnutý starý plagát
A len farbe a len farbe
Chce sa plakať
Chce sa plakať

Circus Horse

He is old and he got used to it
To curious customers
Every evening at half past seven
He hops a waltz about a dream for children

He is old and in his mane
The mournful snows are falling
The twinkling lights of fame
He would not exchange for a handful of grass

He knows the sticks in the cities
But he has never stood in a meadow
He was so famous for his beautiful run
But he never ran free

But he knows the sorrows of animals
They cannot be measured by anything
That cry of the tiger that roar of the elephants
For home, for home

But he knows the bars well
A giraffe couple like towers
A whip from which the skin hurts
The tricks of monkeys, the cat Polly

Oh, that little horse has no words
Perhaps he would say again
Why he waves his tail at the world
And twitches his ears

Oh, that little horse named Žany
I still have him before my eyes
He was so pale, he was so white
When he bowed for the last time

Oh, so the little horse added a number
So that it would be easier for him to go
To that other horse world
Where like an angel he will be allowed
To run free, to whirl up dust
In heavenly pastures

That is the end, that is all
They pack up the circus, they blow the trumpet
A yellowed old poster
And only color, and only color
I want to cry
I want to cry