A keresés eredménye

The country is in chaos

A girl was laying awake at night in a room,
And the chilling wind and cold were robbing her of her dreams,
of the pure things that she had in her heart.
And it was raining out in the street all night.
And so Pippi Longstocking is running away from home.
 
Let's go, let's go, let's walk together.
The stopwatch is on, let's walk through this time.
Come, give me your hand. After all, being together is not hard.
If the old year is past, we will begin anew.
 
Hungry doves are shooting out dreams,
and with their thoughts they are putting me in a mood to sing,
The days are rushing past, they are rushing past fast.
And each one tortures us.
The neighborhoods of Tbilisi are laughing for me,
since they know my woes well.
They are changing the sorrow in my heart into joy.
I expect warmth.
 
There are people out in the street. New homes,
colorful advertisments and eye-catching stands
decorate the city.
And I carry this sorrow in my heart.
What else do I have?
I am a sprout of reed.
 
Without song I will probably disappear,
as the song is my constant companion.
It is what I take in place of bread and butter,
and I carry and go through this life with it.
I believe that you will value my labor,
and so I sing.
 
It is ours, our city is ours,
The poor, the hungry are ours to provide for,
What else is there for this country?
 
We've reached the border.
We are not ashamed to go out in the street.
The days are, after all, beautiful winged horses.
Until the forest sheds all its leaves,
we will live with hope.
 
They country got messed up, and shairi is what's most important.
There's noise out in the streets.
The city has gone mad.
I am a sprout of reed growing out of the swamp.
I have a word to say, so open the window for me.
They grabbed all the money,
They emptied out the studio.
I say out loud all that I feel.
I will give you some change, if you reach your hand out.
 
It is ours, our city is ours,
The poor, the hungry are ours to provide for,
What else is there for this country?
We've reached the border.
We are not ashamed to go out in the street.
The days are, after all, beautiful winged horses.
Until the forest sheds all its leaves,
we will live with hope.