Текст и перевод песни Marika Gombitova - Malá smutná baletka

Malá smutná baletka

Publikum už vypadlo, zatvárajú divadlo, už aj šepkár došepkal.
Iba jedna postava v šatni sama zostala, malá smutná baletka.
Starý pijan, vlásenkár, bohviekde sa nacengal, opäť je tu zašitý.
Za dva deci klebietky o tom, kde, s kým baletky, každý mu to závidí.

Hasnú svetlá na chodbách, z tranzistora znie tu Bach, v šatni sama baletka,
V kúte suchá kytica, z popolníka dymí sa, prievan ako žiletka.

A tam vnútri tichu stien, štíhlejšia než vlastný tieň, malá smutná baletka,
Káva v šálke bez ucha, niečo ako predtucha, čudné veci bez svedka.

Našli ju tam zmenenú akoby šla cez stenu, za nechtami omietka,
Zajtra bude chýbať v ňom, v tom komparze baletnom, jedna krásna baletka.

Čo sa stalo nevie nik, jej smrť nie je žiadny trik, na podlahe Anetka.
Po nešťastnej láske plyn, tajomstvá jej prázdnych skríň, malá smutná balaetka, malá smutná baletka.

Všade ticho mrazivé, farby blednú na sivé, pavúk siete tká,
Na divadlo nám sneží a na dlážke už leží malá mŕtva baletka.

Little Sad Ballerina

The audience has already left, the theater is closing, the prompter has stopped prompting.
Only one person remains in the dressing room, a small, sad ballerina.
An old drunk, a hairstylist, who knows where he got his nose, is here again in hiding.
For two drinks, he gossips about where ballerinas have been with whom, everyone envies him.

The lights are going out in the hallways, Bach is playing on the radio, the ballerina is alone in the dressing room,
In the corner, a dried bouquet, smoke coming from the ashtray, a draft like a razor blade.

And there, in the quiet of the walls, thinner than her own shadow, a small, sad ballerina,
Coffee in a cup without a handle, something like a premonition, strange things without a witness.

They found her changed as if she had walked through a wall, plaster under her nails,
Tomorrow she will be missing, in that ballet corps, one beautiful ballerina.

What happened no one knows, her death is no trick, Anetka on the floor.
After an unhappy love, gas, the secrets of her empty cabinets, a small sad ballerina, a small sad ballerina.

Everywhere there is a chilling silence, the colors fade to gray, a spider weaves a web,
It is snowing on the theater, and on the floor lies a small dead ballerina.