Crvena jabuka – Nekako s proljeća

Nekako s proljeća
uvijek meni doluta
neka čežnja tamna
tiha mudrost davna

Spuštam ja stare kofere
na perone sudbine
To je miris zrelih godina
Moj kaput baš je težak najdraža

Nekako s proljeća
ja se sjetim starih drugova
Probude se u meni
svi derneci pijani

Tad nosim stare cipele
one znaju moje ulice
To je boja crnoponoćna
Moji koraci baš su teški najdraža

I opet taj osjećaj samoće
kad neće nikog mene krene i hoće
I opet mrakom svoje pjesme bojim
pijan od želje, za usnama tvojim

Sav sam ti od ludila
nekako s proljeća

Nekako s proljeća
sjeti mene nepravda
na pobjede, poraze
i sve lažne obzire

Napravim račun praštanja
popijem pusta maštanja
To je ukus lijepog kajanja
Moji kapci baš su teški najdraža

Nekako s proljeća
noć mi oči otvara
Nemam san da uhvatim
Nema dana da ne izgubim

A hoću, da te vodim ja
tragom sunca, jugom maslina
To je dodir tvojih bedara
Moja duša baš te voli najdraža

Sav sam ti od ludila
bez tebe s proljeća

Album_Crvena Jabuka - Nekako s proljeca_1991

English Translation

Somehow With Spring

Somehow with spring
some dark longing
an ancient silent wisdom
always comes wandering to me

I put down my old suitcases
on the platforms of destiny
That’s a scent of old age
My coat is really heavy, my dearest

Somehow with spring
I remember my old friends
All drunk parties
wake up within me

Then I wear my old shoes
they know my streets
That’s a midnight black colour
My steps are really heavy, my dearest

And the same old feeling of loneliness
when it holds no one, it grabs me and doesn’t let go
And again I paint my songs with darkness
drunk with desire, for your lips

I’m all made of lunacy
somehow with spring

Somehow with spring
injustice reminds me
of victories, defeats
and all false concerns

I sum up forgiveness
drink up futile dreams
That’s a taste of deep regret
My eyelids are really heavy, my dearest

Somehow with spring
night opens my eyes
There’s no sleep i can catch
There isn’t a day that I don’t waste

And I want, to take you
to follow sunshine’s trail, to the south with olives
That’s the touch of your thighs
My soul truly loves you, my dearest

I’m all made of lunacy
somehow with spring

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