Ovo je MIMI

Mimi se ne pravi da je francuz. On jeste Francuz!

Malo me žešće mrzi da prevodim ovoliki tekst. Vredi ga pročitati, ako ne - onda bar poslušati i pogledati. Svakako.

Grafiti u pokretu...o da!!!

I come ouf ot the club, it was nice
Smell like drinking, I am exhausted, it's a beautiful life
Walk over drunken bodies rotting on my way
I see rats eating until they are replete
In the shadow of the kebap shop
I walk through puke at the Kottbusser Tor, junks are befuddled
Guys spitting around, not behaving well
Snotty upstarts on a desperate search for the scene
Pierced girls who want me to read "Straßenfeger"

Half past six, my eyes are burning
Step on guy who's sleeping between dead pigeons
Hystericals girls nag and are in panic, because
Around the corner there's tension between Tarek and Sam
Tarek says: "Shut up
Or I'll hit you in your face"
Sam is frightened, but he can't just say nothing
The red soup runs over the asphalt (blood)
I'm feeling sick, I clasp my coat because it's cold

Good morning Berlin
You can be so ugly, so dirty and gray
You can so wonderfully terrible
You're night are devouring me
It might just be the best for me
If I go home and sleep
And while I'm walking through the streets
Black slowly turns into blue (darkness is fading)

Tired figures in the neon light
Deep wrinkles in the face
The early shift stays silten, everone remains to himself
Frustration comes up, the bus is not comming
And everywhere there's sh*t, one would actually have to hover over it
Everybody has a dog but nobody to talk to
I breathe through my mouth all the time, that's part of my life
I feel unhealthy, need something pure against it

I have a headache, I need to get medicine
I'd like to have some Bagdad pastries now
It's warm there, I try to loose myself in my dreams
With Fatima, the sweet pastries saleswoman
R&B ballads come out of a parking Benz
End of the work day for the street gangs
A hooligan is lying in a woman's arms and he's crying
Well, this city isn't as hard as you think it is

I'm tired, rub your dust out of my eyes
You're not beautiful and you know it
Your panorama filthy
You don't even look beautiful from afar
But the sun is just rising
And I know, if I want to or not,
That I need you to breathe

Ovako malo pred pun (pre)pun mesec, mož´ svašta da vidiš.

Pogotovu noću.

I sve.

One noći, „noć muezja“, bežeći od „silnih ljubitelja“ vernisaža, krenusmo T. i ja prečicama do uspavanih trola. I groblja reklamnih panoa sa stanica istih, poređane uredno, jedna pored druge. Ili jedna na drugu. To valjda, po uzoru na domaći i španski način sahranjivanja. Beše naša konstatacija.

Na putu ka tamo, naletesmo na ovog gospodina u sakou.

Tišina, koja se nadvila nad tim delom Dorćola je za naše uši bila savršena.