[blueella]

Bijah jednom jedan ludjak,
na dnu ulice mi kuca.
Imao sam mali ducan.
Prodavao sam zute knjige
ruzicastim djevojkama.
Ali jednog modrog dana
nesta mojega ducana,
izgori mi, rastopi se.

Mislim, pitam druge ljude
mora tako li da bude?

Drugi ljudi pametni su,
ne brinu se za te stvari.




Once upon a time I used to be a madman
with a house at the end of the street.
I used to have a little shop.
I used to sell yellow books
to pink-cheeked girls.
But then on one of those blue days
my shop disappeared,
it burned to the ground, melted away.

I think about it, I ask other people:
does it really have to be that way?

Clever, those other people are,
they don’t care for things like that.