More songs by Stanisław Soyka
Description
Fleeting encounters always leave behind a little more than necessary: an unfinished glance, an unsent word, the taste of someone else's lips, which later turns into reproach. In this rhythm, morning is not a time for coffee, but a signal to flee, because dawn can bring out everything that would be embarrassing to admit during the day. And no random letters or pathetic bouquets can hide the cold that remains afterwards.
Lyrics: Agnieszka Osetka
Composer: Severin Kraevski.
Lyrics and translation
Original
Gdzieś w hotelowym korytarzu krótka chwila.
Splecione ręce gdzieś na plaży, oczu błysk.
Wysłany w biegu krótki list.
Stokrotka śniegu, dobra myśl.
To wciąż za mało moje serce, żeby żyć.
Uciekaj skoro świt, bo potem będzie wstyd i nie wybaczy nikt chłodu ust twych.
Deszczowe wtorki, które przyjdą po niedzielach.
Kropelka żalu, której winien jesteś ty.
Nieprawda, że tak miało być, że warto w byle pustkę iść.
To wciąż za mało moje serce, żeby żyć.
Uciekaj skoro świt, bo potem będzie wstyd i nie wybaczy nikt chłodu ust, braku słów.
Uciekaj skoro świt, bo potem będzie wstyd i nie wybaczy nikt chłodu ust twych.
Odloty nagłe i wstydliwe, niezabawne.
Nic nie wiedzący, a zdradzony pies czy miś.
Żałośnie chuda kwiatów kiść i nowa złuda, nowa nić.
To wciąż za mało moje serce, żeby żyć.
Uciekaj skoro świt, bo potem będzie wstyd i nie wybaczy nikt chłodu ust, braku słów.
Uciekaj skoro świt, bo potem będzie wstyd i nie wybaczy nikt chłodu ust twych.
English translation
Somewhere in the hotel corridor, a brief moment.
Clasped hands somewhere on the beach, eyes shining.
A short letter sent on the run.
Snow daisy, good thought.
My heart is still not enough to live.
Run away at dawn, because then you will be ashamed and no one will forgive the coldness of your lips.
Rainy Tuesdays that come after Sundays.
A drop of regret that is your fault.
It's not true that it was supposed to be like this, that it's worth going into any void.
My heart is still not enough to live.
Run away at dawn, because later you will be ashamed and no one will forgive your cold lips and lack of words.
Run away at dawn, because then you will be ashamed and no one will forgive the coldness of your lips.
The highs are sudden and embarrassing, not fun.
A dog or teddy bear who knows nothing and is betrayed.
A pitifully thin bunch of flowers and a new illusion, a new thread.
My heart is still not enough to live.
Run away at dawn, because later you will be ashamed and no one will forgive your cold lips and lack of words.
Run away at dawn, because then you will be ashamed and no one will forgive the coldness of your lips.