| Jivotqt e pqrhashta ptica | Life is a flying turkey | |
| i kletkata mu e skovana v nas | whose abode is nailed in us | |
| dori predi da sme go priyutili. | before we ever took it. | |
| Zashto lyubimi moi zashto tova sqmnenie? | Why, my lover-boy, why this doubt. | |
| Otvorish li shiroko dlanite si- | If you open wide your palms | |
| i kato vik kqm slqnceto | and like a scream towards the sun | |
| shte izlitne radostta ni. | will fly away our fun. | |
| Shte ni dosegne samo poriva na neynoto dihanie, | Only the urge of her breathing will touch us, | |
| vyatqr zalitasht pod progiznali dqrveta. | wind stuggering under pissed on trees. | |
| Piana ot samota e tazi istina. | The loneliness is drunk with the truth. | |
| Tolkova dumi izgorihme kato hartiya pomejdu si | So much bullshit we burned like paper in between us. | |
| i nikoga ne stignahme po-daleche | but we never got further | |
| ot pulsa na jivota si, biesht se da izleti. | from the pulse of our life, beating itself to death so it can fly off. |