Đorđe Balašević "Miholjsko leto" lyrics

Translation to:enru

Miholjsko leto

Do pola jedan je bilana času klaviraonda korakom merila gradi usput gledala izlogepardon, svoj odraz u njimau kosi još, poput venca,ona molska kadencamala vračka da upravo taduz caffe Kibic polaganonadođe on, kao plima

Ref.Tajne su tu zatoda ih neko naslutipostoji reč koja vreditek kad se odćutiBogu je kanuo čajsvud je prsnuo sjaj

Jedan platan će ostati zlatanona kroz smeh čvrstosvoju kajdanku stišćene drhti on, to je samoto uvelo lišćeblaženo Miholjsko letojedno i sveto za njih

A on je nosio naglassvojih skoro osamnaestsve češće mu govore vibegeš u grudima udarabije u bronzane žiceu džepu sretni staklenacko ono novčić i zdenacmala vračka da nestanu svia ona bane k'o lupeži prospe mu kosu u lice

Kao osrednji klošarmalo prosed i prostarna uglu sam zastao samne tako dobar oktobari misli sve u ruskom štimua, onda shvatih, na prepadda te volim, ko nekadvreme samo raspiruje plamu meni miholjsko letoto prkosno Sunce pred zimu

st.Mihael's summer (Indian summer)

After half past noon she hada piano lessonand then she was measuring the town with her stepand by the way she was looking at the shopwindowsexcuse me! her reflection in themin her hair still, like a garland,that cadence in mall,little spell that, right than,along the caffe Kibic, slowly,he came around, like a tide

Secrets are here sothat someone can sense themthere is a word that counts (has value)only when it isn't saidthe tea is poured to Godit's shining everywhereOne sycamore will stay gold

She is, through the laugh, tightlysqueezing her music notebookhe is not trembling (shivering),it's just that withered leaves,blissfully Indian (st. Mihael's) summerone and secred for them.

And he was carrying aloudHis almost eighteen (years),And more often they refer to him with respectBass is banging in his chestIt's beating on bronze wires,In his pocket is lucky glass stoneLike that - coin and well (fountain)Little spell so that everyone disappearAnd she popped in like a biter (hooligan,blackleg)And disperse her hair over his face

Secrets are here sothat someone can sense themthere is a word that counts (has value)only when it isn't saidthe tea is poured to Godit's shining everywhereOne sycamore will stay gold

She is, through the laugh, tightlysqueezing her music notebookhe is not trembling (shivering),it's just that withered leaves,blissfully Indian (st. Mihael's) summerone and secred for them.

Like a mediocre tramp,A little grayish and oldishat the corner, I stopped alone,not so good october,and thoughts in Russian mood,and then I realized, by suprise,that I still love you, like I used to dothe time has only inflamed the fireAn Indian (st. Mihale's) summer in me,That spiteful Sun before the winter

Here one can find the English lyrics of the song Miholjsko leto by Đorđe Balašević. Or Miholjsko leto poem lyrics. Đorđe Balašević Miholjsko leto text in English. This page also contains a translation, and Miholjsko leto meaning.