Malo mi za sriću triba [English translation]

Beautiful grapes of my heart

full of his wine

and he won't come to pick them

A bit of sea, a bit of sky

rock is blooming when he's looking at it

of course I'm blooming too, of course I'm blooming too

Put on me the drop of love

Ref.

I don't need a lot for happiness

it's enough to call me my beautiful one

I want them to say 'my gold'

those beautiful lips of his

my dalmatian fairy

The wish is squeezing in my body

without him my soul is dry

as olive without oil

In traverse the sky has

blue stars, where will it put them

it puts them in his eyes