Lyrics of Poetic Si Murdar - Carla's Dreams

Poetic Si Murdar (original)

Poetic si murdar.
Fara tactici complicate, fara scoala de PR.
Rasucesc chistoace la ultimul fum,
Ating cu palma pamantul, el ma va primi oricum.
Nu poti parasi rascrucea, tre' s-alegi un drum,
Dar iar si iar te-nvarte viata ca pe un nebun.
Tu nu esti nici macar fum si scrum.
Esti un nume absolut necunoscut pe un album.
Poetic si murdar.
Noi nu facem complimente, noi doar observam calitati certe.
Sceptici ca un bici de taran la minuni,
Nu pentru ca atei, dar pentru ca minciuni.
Doar cartea inchisa isi pastreaza harul,
Cartea deschisa des doar ofera darul de acces
La cunostinte reci.
Auzi?
Noi nu muream de foame - noi sarbatoream in beci!
Poetic si murdar.
Cum au disparut casetele si tu ai sa dispari.
Cand a disparut vinylul tu nici nu erai in plan sa apari,
Asa ca daca-i vorba de scandal - sari!
Dar nu sari din prostie, ori din gelozie,
Ori din ce-o fi mama lui sa fie.
Tu sari pentru principii tari.
Nu te-nteleg copiii?
Las' c-o s' te-nteleaga atunci cand o sa creasca mari.
Poetici si murdari.
Ei sunt copii tai si clar iti par atat de bizari.
Si tu nu intelegi ce ei spun.
I-ai educa altfel, dac-ai sti de pe acum.
Poetic si murdar.
E procesul vietii care-ti da moartea-n dar, dar
Poti fi sigur - te nasti si mori singur.
Da?
Da.
Poetii murdari dispar.
Da?
Da.
Profetii cu har dispar.
Da?
Da.
Tu, frate, mai toarn-un pahar.
Da, da.
Poetii murdari dispar.
Da.
Da.
Poetii curati raman vii si scriu in zadar
Poezii ce sunt concepute doar pentru tipar.
Compara acum in minte, auzi?
Compara acum in minte
Greutatea cartii cu a unui ziar.
Murdaria e bogatie, trebuie sa fii murdar
Ca sa treci de sine, sinele tau e imbracat in alb.
E imbracat in alb nu pentry ca e curat
Ci pentru ca nu e colorat.
Inca.
Murdaria e culoare.
E pretul de pod.
E calea spre zare.
E miezul din samanta ce da nastere la iarba ce rasare
Sub soarele sub care totul naste si totul moare.
Asadar, dispar si poetii murdari...
Poetii murdari dispar.
Da?
Da.
Profetii cu har dispar.
Da?
Da.
Tu, frate, mai toarn-un pahar.
Da, da.
Poetii murdari dispar.
Da.
Da.
Lume, lume... Tu nu-mi esti sora!
Stiu prea muti tati, atatia tati ce ti-au dat fii.
Tu te-ai casatorit cu toti furandu-i dintre cei vii.
Deci, esti cea mai proasta nora!
Indragostita esti de piesele minore
Nu pentru ca le intelegi ci pentru ca tu esti minora.
Atatea mii de ani si-aceleasi scoruri.
Nu-ti pasa de invingatori, tu trebuie sa-ti pastrezi noroiul.
Dar eu iti multumesc oricum pentru ca le dai voie
Si-i murdaresti numai pe cei ce sincer au nevoie.
Ironic e ca printre ei au fost prea multi indragostiti de tine.
Da?
Da.
Poetii murdari dispar.
Da?
Da.
Profetii cu har dispar.
Da?
Da.
Tu, frate, mai toarn-un pahar.
Da, da.
Poetii murdari dispar.
Da.
Da.

(translation)

Poetic and dirty.
No complicated tactics, no PR school.
I twist the cyst at the last smoke,
I touch the ground, he will receive me anyway.
You can't leave the crossroads, you have to choose a path,
But life goes on and on like a madman.
You're not even smoke and ashes.
You are an absolutely unknown name on an album.
Poetic and dirty.
We do not compliment, we only observe certain qualities.
Skeptics like a miracle peasant's whip,
Not because of atheists, but because of lies.
Only the closed book keeps its grace,
The open book often only offers the gift of access
Cold acquaintances.
Hear?
We were not starving - we were celebrating in the cellar!
Poetic and dirty.
How the tapes disappeared and you disappear.
When the vinyl disappeared you weren't even planning to appear,
So if it's a scandal - jump!
But do not jump out of stupidity or jealousy,
Or whatever his mother may be.
You jump for strong principles.
Don't the children understand you?
Let them understand you when they grow up.
Poetic and dirty.
They are your children and they clearly seem so weird to you.
And you don't understand what they're saying.
You would educate them differently if you knew by now.
Poetic and dirty.
It is the process of life that gives you death as a gift, but
You can be sure - you are born and you die alone.
Yes?
Yes.
Dirty poets disappear.
Yes?
Yes.
Prophets with grace disappear.
Yes?
Yes.
You, brother, pour another glass.
Yes Yes.
Dirty poets disappear.
Yes.
Yes.
Pure poets stay alive and write in vain
Poems that are designed only for print.
Compare in mind now, hear?
Compare in mind now
The weight of a book and a newspaper.
Dirt is wealth, you have to be dirty
To go beyond yourself, your self is clothed in white.
He is dressed in white, not because he is clean
But because it's not colorful.
Yet.
Dirt is color.
It's the price of the bridge.
It's the road to the horizon.
It is the seed kernel that gives birth to the rising grass
Under the sun under which everything is born and everything dies.
So the dirty poets disappear ...
Dirty poets disappear.
Yes?
Yes.
Prophets with grace disappear.
Yes?
Yes.
You, brother, pour another glass.
Yes Yes.
Dirty poets disappear.
Yes.
Yes.
World, world ... You are not my sister!
I know too many dumb dads, so many dads who gave you sons.
You married everyone by stealing from the living.
So you're the worst daughter-in-law!
You're in love with the minor pieces
Not because you understand them, but because you're a minor.
So many thousands of years and the same scores.
You don't care about the winners, you have to keep your mud.
But I thank you anyway for allowing them
And you only pollute those who sincerely need it.
The irony is that too many of them have fallen in love with you.
Yes?
Yes.
Dirty poets disappear.
Yes?
Yes.
Prophets with grace disappear.
Yes?
Yes.
You, brother, pour another glass.
Yes Yes.
Dirty poets disappear.
Yes.
Yes.