A keresés eredménye

Tarts velem

Gyere énekelj velem
A békéért és a szeretetért
Ez egyetlen álmom
A világnak is ezt kívánom
Csatlakozz hozzám
Tarts most velem
Jelszavunk legyen a szeretet
Még egyszer próbáljuk meg emberek
Egymással hadat ne viseljünk
Csak meneteljünk...
Még egyszer próbájuk meg
Gyógyuljon a bolygó, a vérző seb
Nyerjük meg az elveszett szíveket
És kezdjük el ezt az új életet
Gonoszság nélkül, fegyverek nélkül
Csak szabadság és béke maradjon végül
 
Gonoszság nélkül, csak szabadság, fegyverek nélkül meglehet
Gonoszság nélkül, csak szabadság legyen,
És még egy menet
 

Red poppy

Na-na-na, na-na-mhh
 
It was Spring, and we were walking together
Through the fields with happy faces,
Deep in our hearts, the Spring and joy.
Then, we did not think of Autumn,
But now it has indeed come,
And much sooner than I thought.
Now everything is so empty,
Now everything is so heavy,
What made me happy is gone.
 
Red poppy, why do you wilt already?
Like my heart, you should glow and blaze with fire.
Red poppy that my love gave me,
Are you wilting because I've already lost him?
 
Blood-red, full of splendour,
Did you bloom yesterday.
But already overnight,
Your beauty has faded.
 
Red poppy, why do you wilt already?
Like my heart, you should glow and blaze with fire.
 
Di-di di-di, da-da-da ...
 
Red poppy, why do you wilt already?
Like my heart, you should glow and blaze with fire.
Red poppy.
 

Without knowing myself

Without knowing myself
Without seeing where i stepped
I just ran to you
Even if the doomsday broke
Without being sure
What I want
I held on once more
To the mistakes we made
 
Now look at me and say
Would you believe if you were me
The promises you made
Is there nothing left in it?
What was the point
Your heart left you down
Whatever I say is useless
You were ready to give up
 
Set it on fire, is it enough?
Is it worth setting me on fire? Worthless
You will understand it if I give up
Set it on fire, is it enough?
Is it worth setting me on fire? Worthless
You will cry if I give up
 
Whatever is in love, you're mistaken
You thought it will always go like this
Turn to yourself, look, you're too late
Would you stay if I didn't love you?
 

My little dove

My little dove who flew away from me
your image returns night after night to impede my sleep
because of love, I get restless and I'm waiting for you
although hidden as ever my pain is beyond all bearing.
 
Because of your cruelty I'm bustling around sick and feverish
after cradling the warm affection that we lived together,
you took flight, here you left me, making me an orphan
homeless and alone, mired in sadness, since that time.
 
Without any solace I keep loving you each sunrise
as a shadow I am walking alone with my loneliness.
My eyes suffer when looking at the house where you no longer are,
a broken heart that stains my chest and makes me sob.
 
With a low flight from me you turned away little dove
because you didn't want me to stroke your hair and skin.
Come back, I ask you, to comfort me as you know how.
Relieve this sorrow that crushes my soul, my little dove
 

This is My Story

It all began like nothing
I was alone and bored
It was just another afternoon of me having doubts about my future
I requested something I wanted for Christmas
That would one way or another
See my dream come true
It was all very strange but I got a sign
The camera gave me a boost
And when I started to film
I went to sleep excited
It was an early morning
But there wasn't another one
My life was transforming
 
I had a hunch
I couldn't sleep
The video had just uploaded
And there was something in me
The weeks of summer passed
And I remember
If I had twenty views
I was more than satisfied
 
It was only a dream
To conquer a smile
To be able to be myself
And in doing so, to cause your laughter
So you'll forget your problems
And just to entertain you
So that one way or another
You'll smile when you see me
 
This is my story
Recalling my past
My personal legend
Constructed at each step
Crying with excitement
I'm sending you all a hug
Thank you for helping me
To see my dream come true
 
At school, I am quiet
Lying on my bench
And I can't concentrate
Because I keep thinking and I am in my own head
Even if no one believed me
And even if everyone made fun of me
I knew that with videos
Something great awaited me
Teachers, my friends
My family and everybody
Were telling me to give up
This immature hobby
And I seriously thought of giving it up
There was nothing positive
Nobody saw me
It was just causing conflict
 
In spite of everything I wanted to show them
That they were wrong
To underestimate me
And a year and a half went by
And when I least expected it
Boom!
The wheel of life
Which was shining on me
 
And I know that time helps
If you put it on your side
If you open your mind a little
And look outside the box
You'll see with other eyes
More than the in-between
I am a person like you
The internet is just a medium
 
This is my story
Remembering my past
My personal legend
Constructed at each step
Crying with excitement
And I'm sending you all a hug
Thank you for helping me
To see my dream come true
 
This is my story
Remembering my past
My personal legend
Constructed at each step
Crying with excitement
And I'm sending you all a hug
Thank you for helping me
To see my dream come true
 
They invited me to a party
It was cool and for a while
I thought I would stay seated
And chatting
But I was shocked
There were a lot of people shouting
Banging at the gate
I was baffled
 
They brought me up on stage
And I'll never forget
With stage fright
And without knowing what to do
I couldn't believe it
They were calling my name
I had never seen them
And to think that they know me
 
The euphoria was incredible
I would never have imagined
Destiny bestowed on me
More than I could have dreamed
I wanted for my videos
To be a remedy
Of laughing and cracking up
For the bad times
 
Even though we don't know each other
Many many thanks
For giving me the gift of your friendship
From far off in the distance
Keep going with your projects
Don't give up
Just keep going
Step by step
Always looking forward
Each letter
A message
A poster
A photo
Draws me a smile
Instantly
On my face
I don't want to be your idol
I don't want you to love me
I want to be your friend
The one who makes you happy
On those afternoons
 
This is my story
Remembering my past
My personal legend
Constructed at each step
Crying with excitement
And I'm sending you all a hug
Thank you for helping me
To see my dream come true
 
This is my story
Remembering my past
My personal legend
Constructed at each step
Crying with excitement
And I'm sending you all a hug
Thank you for helping me
To see my dream come true
 
Thanks to all of you
I am what I am now
I simply
Wanted to thank you all
 
This is my story
 

Kundera's Grandmother

Kundera's grandmother, and also mine,
knew every herb and their applications,
they knew what they had inside the mattresses,
they knew how to study the sky and bake bread.
 
Kundera's grandmother in her small Czech town
and mine in her Belchite, and they both knew
the priest was the confidant of the police.
There were no secrets around them.
 
Kundera's neighbor looks like mine.
If he is someone distinguished, nobody would say so.
He's a very proper character who spends eight hours
a day typing on a computer.
 
My neighbor goes back home and turns on the TV
and drinks a toast with the family with El Gaitero cider1
when the announcer affirms that in the whole world
there is no other place safer than our city.
 
My neighbor never knew that on that same night
on his street a young girl was raped,
that two elderly ladies were attacked and an indigent
turned up in the alley with his throat slit.
 
My neighbor, that night, got into bed
convinced he had the world under control,
certain of being a very well informed man
in respect to what was happening around him.
 
Kundera's grandmother, and also mine,
knew every herb and their applications,
they knew what they had inside the mattresses,
they knew how to study the sky and bake bread.
 

• 1. A Spanish cider

Kundera's Grandmother

Kundera's grandmother, and also mine,
knew every herb and their applications,
they knew what they had inside the mattresses,
they knew how to study the sky and bake bread.
 
Kundera's grandmother in her small Czech town
and mine in her Belchite, and they both knew
the priest was the confidant of the police.
There were no secrets around them.
 
Kundera's neighbor looks like mine.
If he is someone distinguished, nobody would say so.
He's a very proper character who spends eight hours
a day typing on a computer.
 
My neighbor goes back home and turns on the TV
and drinks a toast with the family with El Gaitero cider1
when the announcer affirms that in the whole world
there is no other place safer than our city.
 
My neighbor never knew that on that same night
on his street a young girl was raped,
that two elderly ladies were attacked and an indigent
turned up in the alley with his throat slit.
 
My neighbor, that night, got into bed
convinced he had the world under control,
certain of being a very well informed man
in respect to what was happening around him.
 
Kundera's grandmother, and also mine,
knew every herb and their applications,
they knew what they had inside the mattresses,
they knew how to study the sky and bake bread.
 

• 1. A Spanish cider

Kubala

Pele was Pele. And Maradona is one and enough
Di Stéfano was a well of tricks
Honor and glory to who made shine the sun
of our football of everyday
They all have their merits, each to his own
But for me there's nobody like Kubala
I beg you respectable silence
To make a resume for those who never enjoyed him.
 
He stops it with the head, he puts it down with the chest
And sleeps it with the left foot
And crosses the middle field with the ball
Attached to the boot.
He dodges the midfielder and gets in the big area
Fighting over the ball
He hides it with the body, pushes it with the ass
And back heels it
He pees on the central with a yours-and-mine
With dedicatory
And shoots it just to put it
On the way to glory
 
Long live the knowledge and the joy of the game
Decorated with a bit of fantasy
Football in colors, gourmet bite,
Crochet lace, a delight
 
When he stops it with the head, when he puts it down with the chest
When he sleeps it with the left foot
When he crosses the middle field with the ball
Attached to the boot.
When he dodges the midfielder and gets in the big area
Fighting over the ball
And he hides it with the body, pushes it with the ass
And back heels it
And he pees on the central with a yours-and-mine
With dedicatory
And shoots it just to put it
On the way to glory
 
Let me gloss the glory of those facts
As the Greeks did years before
With the joy of who played with him
And has his picture in his wallet
When he stops it with the head, when he puts it down with the chest
And he sleeps it with the left foot
 

Little Fado from the Highlands

Very good night to you all,
Ladies and gentlemen:
Up there in my homeland
There are good singers!
There are good singers,
Good songstresses...
The married ones weep,
The unmarried ones sing...
 
Ah, la-ree-la-ley...
The unmarried ones sing
Love folk tunes...
Love folk tunes!
Very good night to you all,
Ladies and gentlemen!
 
Little fado from the highlands,
You're much to my taste!
Little charming fado,
Always with a good disposition...
Always with a good disposition,
Whether it be late or early:
Making good friends
Is your secret!
 
Ah, la-ree-la-ley...
It's your secret
To smile at displeasure...
To smile at displeasure:
Little charming fado,
Always with a good disposition!
 
Trusting men
Is like believing the devil:
All of them are the same,
In the end...
In the end,
A lass who gets a boyfriend
Gets lost in songs:
She's the one who ends up crying!
She's the one who ends up crying...
I'm finishing with this one:
Trusting men
Is like believing the devil!
 
Ah, la-ree-la-ley...
She's the one who ends up crying...
I'm finishing with this one:
Trusting men
Is like believing the devil!
 

Olive Tree from the Mountains

Little olive tree from the mountains,
The wind carries away its flower!
Oh-la-oh-pretty!
Just I am not being taken by anyone
Oh-la-oh-pretty!
There, at my lover's feet.
 
The little olive tree from the mountains
Drops little silver branches.
Oh-la-oh-pretty!
I feel so sorry for my eyes
Oh-la-oh-pretty!
His absence is killing me!
 
Little olive tree from the mountains,
Your leaves are all misshapen!
Oh-la-oh-pretty!
I hope the tongue is misshapen
Oh-la-oh-pretty!
Of those who talk about my life.
 

My dear

Think on me, my dear, think on me
when the switches have a dig at you in the morning.
I won’t make you warmer the cold
either sweeter the coffee and milk
but think on me
my dear
think on me
Think on me when the wage doesn’t come to you
or when they brush you in the metro at eight and half.
and bring me
embroidered on your blouse
or painted on your red smile.
Swing me
of your earrings.
Border me with your rings
And let me come with you, let me come.
Let me go where you go to, let me go.
My dear, between pleasure and pain
enlaced against a poem
you read in secret.
The lazy town will yawn
when you will indicate the hour and open the office windows
And the birds will affect you
which nest in your hair,
the heart say you :
the bird put in cages, dies.
They bring me in the feathers dreams and beats
when they knock on my panes with their beaks
and tell me
the small white history
which between four walls faded.
 
They squeak
the spring dies,
when it can’t go out for a walk.
Let me go with you, let me go
Let me go where you go to, let me go
my dear, and the face turns red
 
Think we still have
your birds path
to fly it you and me with them.