A keresés eredménye

We Live Just Once

The boy’s handsome in profile and en face.
Let him stir my emotions, let him hug me,
because we live just once.
We live just once, we live just once,
We only live once.
 
As we all know, time doesn’t stand still.
It1 lasted a short time, he found somebody else,
because we live just once.
We live just once, we live just once,
We only live once.
 
How falsely his bass2 sounded!
'Forgive me, darling, this is goodbye.
Well, we live just once'.
We live just once, we live just once,
We only live once.
 
I thought: 'Maybe I’ll turn on the gas?'
I miss him and I sigh, I feel so sad – oh, gosh!
Because we live just once.
We live just once, we live just once,
We only live once.
 
It’s like a game of cards: the deuce here, the ace there.
Sometimes somebody has a chance to win,
so we live just once.
We live just once, we live just once,
We only live once.
 
Whether from empty hands, or from boxes full of gold,
pain flows more often, happiness more seldom,
although we live just once.
We live just once, we live just once,
We only live once.
 
Trees are in bloom and the forest rustles forever,
the Sun plays with a shadow, love plays with pain,
and we live just once.
We live just once, we live just once,
We only live once.
 

• 1. love
• 2. voice type

Oh, Come, Evil Night

Oh, come, evil night, I’ve been waiting for you.
I know that you know my heart.
I know what you want to whisper to me till the day.
Na na na, na na na, na na na
 
My love was to come with you today,
but he got lost in your darkness.
Mmm, mmm
 
If my love wants to come here again,
he won’t find me in your darkness anymore.
Mmm, mmm
 
Oh, come, evil night, I’ve been waiting for you.
You know that today everything will end.
You know that my grief has lasted too long.
Na na na, na na na, na na na
 
My love was to arrive with you today,
but he got lost in your darkness.
Mmm, mmm
 

A radiotelegraphist song

It's me, it's me, it's me... you hear - I am calling, I, the willow
the wind has lugged my leaves
behind a white back, a fire
Through days and nights
I am waiting, come, hug me,
I am waiting, come, I am waiting, live
Through days and nights
I am waiting, come, hug me,
I am waiting, come, I am waiting, come, hug me,
 
It's me, it's me, it's me... you hear - I am calling, I, the flame
from a storm's spark, from the crumbles of stars,
dear, do not fear, take me into your hands
the flame is squirming, running
I am waiting, come, hug me,
I am waiting, come, I am waiting, live
the flame is squirming, running
I am waiting, come, hug me,
I am waiting, come, I am waiting, come, hug me,
 
It's me, it's me, it's me... you hear - I am calling, I, the meadow
a world that smells like fresh grass,
Above it, a cloud and a flight of a lark
the grass is shivering in the silent dream
I am waiting, come, hug me,
I am waiting, come, I am waiting, live
the grass is shivering in the silent dream
I am waiting, come, hug me,
I am waiting, come, I am waiting, come, hug me
 

On the French street

A certain painter who wanted to paint love
Was lost in colors day and night
He gave his heart to his model
But a mistake always found its way onto the canvas
He would throw his brushes and say: - Go away!
 
On the French street, on the French street
there's a little cafe
Painted with funny hearts
That find by getting lost
 
On the French street, shirts blossom
The wind is blowing like a dress
A fashionable dress, a pleasant day
A fancy dress in shining and in shadow
 
Here, smiles are like sails
Flying over a glass clank
The noise of the colors jamming all words
 
On the French street, like in front of a mirror
The time has stopped for a moment
It took a lipstick form a lady's handbag
changed everything in the middle of the day
 
A familiar mouth smiled like that
The Vistula ribbon was shining against the wind
And the wind is whispering: 'Take a look, again'
You have painted night and day
Is it really her or not?
 
On the French street, a little shadow
Whose eyes, whose lips
Whose hair is touched by the wind
With whose voice is the dusk whispering
 
On the French street, on the French street
There is a little cafe
A cafe where the waitress
Has got the prettiest eyes
 
On the French street, like in front of a mirror
The sun changes its dress
A different dress for a model
Love has got a different one