(O piesã pe care, pânã de curând, habar n-aveam de unde s-o apuc fiindcã, la naiba!, nu ştiu o boabã de ivrit. Din acelaşi motiv ţin sã vã ofer şi o traducere aproximativã luatã de acilea; o puteţi citi imediat dupã ce ascultaţi siropul cu pricina şi recepţionaţi micul meu apel.)

Pen’ cã se apropie paişpe februarie, ziua trans-globalã a oxitocinei şi altor hormoni, vã recomand proaspãt deschisul restaurant chinezesc Chong Qing (la Foişor, lângã Pizza Happy Time şi Şaorma turceascã), cãci dumnealui vã oferã o sticlã de vin din partea casei în acea binecuvântatã zi.

Nu-i reclamã. E o rugãminte sincerã sã mergeţi sã-l încercaţi şi sã-mi ziceţi cum e. Pe de o parte, orice restaurant chinezesc e bun. Pe de alta, din curtea alãturatã am impresia cã au dispãrut douã rânduri de cãţei.

Aşa!

And I still dance with you in my head,
look at the clock and it’s almost 5:30,
and if you don’t arrive by 6, I’ll despair,
but I’ll stand here tomorrow
in front of the same cypresses.

And I still love with the time, with each step
and still remember well how you said:
“After two good times comes a time,
that destroys us and then it’s finished.”

And I still ride in the same used car,
surely close with the destroyed engine.
And I know there’s no additional possibility,
aside from starting with you the same dance.

And everything goes around like horses riding inside a room,
hanging on your arm, dont let me fall by mistake,
and I quote like a learned person from within a book:
“my Cinderella – we’ll dance and we’ll die.”

And I still ride…

The city sky is red and you’re hurting me
and two kids laugh because of the song,
‘cuz how you aren’t coming, how are you not coming?
We decided to dance at 5:30.

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