OLD FRIEND

Old friend, you are looking for your bottle in many bars,
Like a newborn looks for its mother's breast.
In the sparkling eyes of the street lights
You are looking for answers to many questions,
In the black eyes of the old owl
You are looking for reflections of nights forlorn.

Old friend, you are looking for your bottle in many bars,
Like a long lost friend,
Haunted by the curse of drunken sailors, tramps and bohemians,
You are escaping into the deeper darkness of drunkenness,
Into the world of many-faced nymphs,
Into the world of horrible apparitions.
When the moon wraps the gray city's face into turquoise clothes,
You are looking for lost faces in the embrace of drunken courtesans,
You are looking for faceless faces in mysterious fogs,
You are looking for the gray city's face.

Old friend, in the embrace of sleepy nights
You are looking for a sanctuary for many a tear,
And their silent echo beats against the gray city's dirty face,
Like a warning to the blind and deaf world.
Many a pearly river of tears shall run dry
Before the world recognizes the reflections
Of its own drunkenness in them.
When the tired wind cries out on the nameless grave of a bohemian,
The bottle shall once again be your only friend,
You shall once again search for the spirit
Of the distant childhood in the bottle,
When you looked at the word in a clear and entirely innocent manner,
When your childish view wasn't entwined in the alcoholic fog,
When your world wasn't as strange and distant as it is now;

Old friend, forget the silent ghosts from the bottle,
Throw the spirit world into the dark face of death,
There are still bottleless friends in this world.