A keresés eredménye

Tell Me Slowly

Come here now
tell me slowly
how it was
reveal to me every detail
 
Don't worry
don't hide anything
and don't try
to sweeten the bitter
 
Come here now
tell me slowly
what you saw and what you heard
 
What did he say
what did he remember
did he look like
a happy person
 
How was he dressed
and how is his hair
weaved white
or nothing left
 
Did she stand
all the time at his side
did he hold
her hand in his
 
Does he keep
the pictures in his wallet
does he laugh
as we once laughed
 
Come look
strait into my eyes
did he ask
if only once about me
 
What did she say
what does she remember
does she seem to you
a happy woman
 
And what was she wearing
and how is her hair
collected on the nape
long or short
 
Did he stand
all the time at her side
did she give
her hand to his
 
Does she bear
pictures in her purse
and how does she laugh
and how did she dance
 
Come reveal to me
and don't avoid
does she ever
mention my name
 
Come here now
tell me slowly
how it was
reveal to me every detail
 
Don't worry
don't hide anything
don't try
to sweeten the bitter
 

What is the name of my love

Lyrics: Yaakov Gilaad
Melody: Yehuda Poliker
 
And this is a new Middle East
And this is Tel-Aviv/Jaffa
It's but a week with no peace outside
And this is a very tiny bubble
And this is me and this is you (male)
It is not gold, it is just shiny
And this bubble will explode if you touch it
 
And those are our lives in the past times
It could be better,
But it could turn into a disaster
Good evening frustration and good night to hope
Who is next in the queue and who is in the next queue?*
 
And this is a gun, it's a camera
It's portrayed as a war
And it sounds like shootings and
What is comparable to Jaffa in the nights?
It's not the fire it's the match
It's not a cigar it's a painting
This is you and this is me
It's a shame that Sunday** is not Monday
 
And those are our lives in the past times
It could be better,
But it could turn into a disaster
Good evening frustration and good night to hope
Who is next in the queue and who is in the next queue?
 
If the tempest is a song of the wind
What tune does hope produce?
What is the name of my love,
Of your love?
Good evening frustration and good night to hope
Who is next in the queue and who is in the next queue?
 
And this is the autumn and this is sad
And this is the house, this is the cage
It's not a first cigarette
And most definitely, not a last one
This is the machine of thoughts which I couldn't turn off
And this is me and this is you
It's the togetherness that existed, as though it didn't
 
And those are our lives in the past times
It could be better,
But it could turn into a disaster
Good evening frustration and good night to hope
Who is next in the queue and who is in the next queue?
 
If the tempest is a song of the wind
What tune does hope produce?
What is the name of my love,
Of your love?
Good evening frustration and good night to hope
Who is next in the queue and who is in the next queue?
 
Translated by Ari Weiler-Ofek - Avtarás K. Elymés̱er
 
* A possible reference to the 'death queues' in Israel during the Second Intifada, a guerrilla war mainly thought in the area surrounding Jerusalem, whereby many innocent civilians were killed by Palestinian suicide bombers. But it's polysemous, because it could also mean 'who is my next love, and who is roving their eyes at a new relationship?'
 
** In Israel, Sunday is the day when week starts, so it's heavily regarded as boring, busy and difficult, perhaps it's equivalent to Monday in European culture
 
Avtarás Karím Elymésher

A Window to the Mediterranean Sea

Lyrics: Yaakov Gil'ad
Melody: Yehuda Poliker
 
I promised to write to you when I departed
Yet I haven't corresponded with you for a while now
Right now I am missing you terribly
It's a shame, a shame that you're not here.
 
As soon as I arrived in Jaffa
Hopes were borne out of frustration
I found a room and a half for myself
On the rooftops of an abandoned house.
 
There is a Murphy bed in here,
If the three of us want to sleep.
You, me and the child
By a window to the Mediterranean sea.
 
...And perhaps, far away, there lies a chance of 1 out of a million
...And perhaps, far away, some sort of happiness is sneaking into the window.
 
The year is 1950, end of December
Outside there is a war of spirits
The snow came here suddenly
White reminds me of lost things.
 
The wound is still open,
If only you were with me right now
I would sure be telling you
What a letter cannot simply tell.
 
Here, if you want you can come home,
And myself, o, you'll have plenty of it
Laughter of children in the evenings
By a window to the Mediterranean sea.
 
...And perhaps, far away, there lies a chance of 1 out of a million
...And perhaps, far away, some sort of happiness is sneaking into the window.
 
Avtarás Karím Elymésher