man in the sun

man in the sun

she reads to me from the New Yorker

which I don't buy, don't know

how they get in here, but it's

something about the Mafia

one of the heads of the Mafia

who ate too much and had it too easy

too many fine women patting his

walnuts, and he got fat sucking at good

cigars and young breasts and he

has these heart attacks - and so

one day somebody is driving him

in his big car along the road

and he doesn't feel so good

and he asks the boy to stop and let

him out and the boy lays him out

along the road in the fine sunshine

and before he dies he says:

how beautiful life can be, and

then he's gone.

sometimes you've got to kill 4 or 5

thousand men before you somehow

get to believe that the sparrow

is immortal, money is piss and

that you have been wasting

your time.

czlowiek w sloncu

czyta mi notke z New Yorkera,

którego nie kupuje, nie wiem

gdzie go tu mozna dostac, ale to

cos o Mafii.

jeden z szefów Mafii,

który za duzo jadl i zbyt wiele pieknych kobiet

zbyt latwo glaskalo go

po jajach, i który mial pociag do dobrych

cygar i mlodych piersi, i mial

trzy ataki serca - tak wiec

pewnego dnia ktos go wiezie

jego duzym samochodem,

a jemu jest niedobrze

i kaze szoferowi zatrzymac sie i dac

mu wysiasc, i chlopak kladzie go

na chodniku w piekny sloneczny dzien,

i ten facet, zanim umiera, mówi:

jak piekne moze byc zycie, po czym

umiera.

czasami musisz zabic 4 lub 5

tysiecy ludzi zanim w koncu

uwierzysz, ze wróbel

jest niesmiertelny, pieniadze to gówno i

ze traciles

czas.

przelozyl Maciej Fronski