OLD BAR

You always have to hold on to someone
When you're doing bad in life,
And right now I am holding on to the counter in the bar.
My fingers are sticking to the bottle
Like they used to stick to her naked body.
Some might not consider it an appropriate analogy,
But those who know how inebriating love can be,
Know that it can be stronger than liquor.
While the sweet rhythm of an old blues song
Caresses the hearts of nightbirds in a brotherly way,
A lady of the night blows a heart made of cigarette smoke
Into the face of a stately gentleman.
It is only here, in this old bar,
Where you can hide all of your trouble
In a heart-shaped cloud of cigarette smoke,
Because smoking is forbidden elsewhere,
In the name of people's health.
But tell me, friend,
What about freedom?...
Can a man no longer choose
How to perish
When destiny gives him black clothes to wear?
When abandoned by the woman
Who knew how to light the fire inside,
Stronger than the liquor
That so feverishly throws itself
Into the fiery paths of my entrails.
My eyes that used to be so clear
Are so blurred now,
Aimlessly wandering from face to face
Of the nightbirds whose eyes are just as lost.
We are bound by the threads of loves lost.
They say you can love every woman the way you loved
The first one,
But the first one inebriated me for good,
Just like the first glass of liquor did.
When my gaze wandered off into the street,
In the hope that I might see her,
Because people say that hope is the last to die,
I heard the velvety voice of a harlot:
"Don't be a fool, love,
You will never find lips more passionate
Than mine... Let's dance, love!..."
I know she has no love for me,
Just wishful eyes
That so ravishingly glow
In the demonic fires of passion.
There is no more will to dance in couples inside me,
Promises, hopes, caressing and tragedies
Vanished with that first love,
So pour me another one, bartender.