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Imran Khan - Satisfya versuri traducere în engleză

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Satisfya

A lamborghini which is the colour yellow
she tells me to drive it slowly
when she turns the car on first gear
she seems like to me the one and only
she is killer of men's hearts
i'm looking at you to see how you go faster
rev up the engine a little bit harder
 
I'm A Rider
Provider
Bring the heat girl
I will bring the fire
I'm a name king
Scoring worldwide
So my job is to satisfy yaaa (aaa, ay, satisfy aaa, ai)
 
Call me call me mr Makaveli
I make em disappear just like harry Houdini
my lyrics is so insane
so I'm adjusted that would be a chain
we dont need anything, people say problem
they see me as a problem
i dont understand, i dont have any problem
I give the ma cure with a fresh new album
 
I'm A Rider
Provider
Bring the heat girl
I will bring the fire
I'm a name king
Scoring worldwide
So my job is to satisfy yaaa (aaa, ay, satisfy aaa, ai)
 
Never gonna stop while I'm hard working
I am in a zone where you can't step in
if its not a hit, then it goes straight to the bin
This is the way I like workin'
 
Never gonna stop while I'm hard workin
I am in a zone where you can't step in
if its not a hit, then it goes straight to the bin
So move out the way ay, ay, ay
 
I'm A Rider
Provider
Bring the heat girl
I will bring the fire
I'm a name king
Scoring worldwide
So my job is to satisfy yaaa (aaa, ay, satisfy aaa, ai)
 
I'm A Rider
Provider
Bring the heat girl
I will bring the fire
I'm a name king
Scoring worldwide
So my job is to satisfy yaaa (aaa, ay, satisfy aaa, ai)
 

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Pure Holidays

Oh, when I hear holiday songs
I love to see my childhood delights again
The shining pine, the silvery snow
Christmas, my beautiful pure dream
 
Oh, when, when I hear play in the sky
The hour when Santa is coming down
I see your bright eyes again, Mommy
And I think of other pure holidays
 
Oh, when, when I hear play in the sky
The hour when Santa is coming down
I see your bright eyes again, Mommy
And I think of other pure holidays
 
Translation done by Alma Barroca. In case you want to reprint it, please ask for permission first and always cite my name as its author. /
Tradução feita por Alma Barroca. Caso você queira reutilizá-la, por favor peça por permissão antes e sempre cite meu nome como o do autor.
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(poetic)

Salty water

No one is inside
solace is no-longer enough
sloping red wall painting
my heart is pumping
flowing blood in my veins
is cool deserted senseless
and resembles to boundless rivers
 
Salty water
sharp twist
ways that we take like greased lightning
it can not be very close
too far
too near
smithereens of those cloths
too near yet too far
not a single thing can possible without you
 
dissuade me, come enamor me
passion has unwrapped my pieces come...
 
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(poetic)

The Last Dreamer

A river without a bed—
a field without flowers—
a face without a name.
 
A day without sun—
a sky without stars—
the world without love.
 
The hot wind of summer—
friend of many years ago—
sunrises with a ruby sun.
 
Beautiful days of serenity—
on the roofs, songbirds,
to embroider melodies.
 
But time
has erased everything—
unfortunately that is so today.
 
But I am convinced
it cannot end everything—
it cannot end badly.
 
They will return—
the beautiful springtimes—
and love will be victorious.
 
The hot wind of summer—
friend of many years ago—
I recall how it was yesterday—
I burst with happiness.
 
The long rivers run to the seashore—
the nostalgia of the first 'no'—
I will be a deluded dreamer
but one day everything will change.
 
The long rivers run to the seashore—
the nostalgia of the first 'no'—
I will be a deluded dreamer
but one day everything will change.
 
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Penguin

Neither a fool, nor a child, not black
or white, but upright
and a questioning innocence
dressed in night and snow.
The mother laughs at the sailor,
the fisherman at the astronaut,
but the child doesn't laugh at the child
when he sees the baby bird;
and from the ocean in disarray
an immaculate passenger
emerges from mourning covered in snow.
 
I was without a doubt the baby bird
there in the cold archipelagos
when he looked at me with his eyes,
with the old eyes of the sea:
they weren't arms and they weren't wings,
they were hard tiny oars
that he carried on his sides;
he was the age of salt,
the age of the water in motion
and he looked at me from his age:
ever since then I know that I don't exist,
that I am a worm in the sand.
 
The reasons for my respect
remained in the sand.
That religious bird
didn't need to fly,
didn't need to sing;
and although his shape was visible,
his wild soul bled salt
as if they had cut
a vein from the bitter sea.
 
Penguin, immobile traveler,
a priest slow from the cold,
I salute your upright charm
and envy your plumed pride.