Oroszország gyalázatos háborút folytat Ukrajna ellen.     Állj ki Ukrajnával!
Ossza meg
Betűméret
Fordítás
Swap languages

My weekends

At Saturday nights, I sink
like a paper boat,
into one of your blue clothes
and into huge "why"s.
At Saturday nights,
the next festival will occur.
I'll be afraid that Sunday won't come up
when I roll up the curtains.
 
My weekends are a torture,
the drink and my loneliness are utterly poisonous.
You don't understand the problems at my weekends.
You are aware of my feelings, but you never come.
 
At Saturday nights, at the coldest parts of the trench
is where I will be searching for you.
The kiss was magical,
like a burst of light from a fairytale.
At Saturday nights, as if it were a lie,
no matter how many moments we drank down,
with another stare, I get used to
weekly days.
 
My weekends are a torture,
the drink and my loneliness are utterly poisonous.
You don't understand the problems at my weekends.
You are aware of my feelings, but you never come.
 
During the rest of my days, I exchange "good morning"s.
I have hangouts, conversations, wanderings in alleys,
extra work hours at job and new experience.
Yet, my weekends are hitting on the heart like an arrow.
 
My weekends are a torture,
the drink and my loneliness are utterly poisonous.
You don't understand the problems at my weekends.
You are aware of my feelings, but you never come.
 
Eredeti dalszöveg

Τα σαββατοκύριακά μου

Dalszövegek (Görög)

Hozzászólások