Pjesma za malu pticu [English translation]

All night, it knocked

on my window

The thirtieth autumn

With fingers made of rain, unto dawn

While you were waking me up

Little bird

You, as beautiful as an army

Under the flags

And me, little piece of illusion,

I wanted to tell you:

Run, run away from me

God, God, it's a pity for the both of us

Everything could have been different, perhaps

Had we met sooner,

You and me

You never dared,

Little bird,

to eat nor to drink water from my hands

Because i bear a sad blow

somewhere at the bottom of my chest

And this stranger's face

And a thousand wrinkles

And a rosemary

that never withers

That's why you should run, run away from me

Run, run away from me

(2x)

Run.