sonči žarki so razparali trebuhe oblakov
dež je ponehal turisti izmučeni moja mala
mašinca v možganih deluje v taktu
velikega imperija nekaj je z u n a j
tam kjer se začne drugo življenje brez odmeva
izkopanin svet okoli mene se je razprl kot pomlad
v osrednjem delu stare celine kartica iz Kolumbije
me je spet opozorila da obstaja še drug svet nisem
še zažgal tibetanskega denarja iz novega sveta ne
ne poznam habsburškega mita zakaj sprašuješ
sem petindvajseta generacija izza Karpatov
še pred sto leti so moji predniki živeli v isti sobi
skupaj s prašiči in drugimi živalmi danes pa ponosno
hodimo po ulicah in letamo v jeklenih ptičih

sun rays have ripped open the clouds' bellies
the rain has stopped tourists are exhausted
the machinery in my head takes on the beat
of the great empire there's something out there
where another life begins without the echo
of excavations the world around me has unfolded like Spring
in the central core of the old continent a postcard from Columbia
has reminded me once more that there's another world I have not
yet burnt that Tibetan money from the new one I am not
familiar with the Habsburg myth and why are you asking
I am the twenty-fifth generation this side of the Carpathians
only a hundred years ago my ancestors shared their room
with pigs and other animals but today we proudly
strut the streets and take to the air in metal birds