Bravo majstore. Jedna od rijetkih gdje je cover skoro dobar kao i original. Mada jucer sa burazerom nesto pricam i on kaze da je Rainbow - Temple of the King najbolja pjesma u historiji muzike opcenito.Smjela izjava
_________________ Four eyes as two in one the forward circular view that never ends
An orbital voyage throughout the endless sphere of all
Pa i taj Hardline ti je dobar. Dobra je i ta stvar koju si postavio. Evo jedna za tebe u istom stilu (a i za druge koji vole laganicu): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dkE5jgWemX8
_________________ Four eyes as two in one the forward circular view that never ends
An orbital voyage throughout the endless sphere of all
Po bašči se šeće i dupetom kreće, ni hođin mi zapis ništa pomoć neće. Ja, kakva je pusta, tako mi imana, stid je ne bi bilo da je kod sultana.
Umro stari pjesnik, umrla Emina, ostala je pusta bašta od jasmina. Salomљen je ibrik, uvelo je cvijeće, pjesma o Emini nikad umrijet neće.
Za englesko govorno podrucje bujrum odje:
EMINA (Aleksa Šantić)
Last night while returning from a steamy bath I passed by the garden of an old imam. And lo! In the garden, in the shade of a jasmine, there with a pitcher in her hand stood Emina.
I cried out salaam, swear with my beliefs, but beautiful Emina wouldnt even hear it. Instead, scooping water with a silver pitcher, went around the garden watering roses.
Ashvin, ashva, aye pasha, rides a horse subasha. Ashvin, ashva, fuck it, rides a horse who has one.
A wind blew from the branches down her lovely shoulders, unraveling those thick braids od hers. Her hair gave off a scent of blue hyacinths, dizziness went in hand with stroke aparatus.
I nearly stumbled, I swear by my faith, but beautiful Emina didnt come to rest. Only what she gave me was a frowning look, not caring, the wicked one, that death it took.
Ashvin, ashva, aye pasha, rides a horse subasha. Ashvin, ashva, fuck it, rides a horse who has one.
Yes, what a beauty! By my faith I could swear, she wouldnt be ashamed if she were at the sultans. And the way she walks and her battocks move, not even a priest amulet could save my soul.
Old poet has died, Emina as well, garden of jasmine deserted became. Pitcher is broken, flowers withered, but Eminas song remains unfaded.