Hivtiach lishloach shirim lamusaf
aval ein lo loach lo ba lo achsav
Nisgar lo bacheder safar ad shalosh
horid et hasveder shavar et harosh
Patach et hadelet chalam al nashim
keva mekulkelet vesheket nafshi

Az tishte kafe turki vititorer
ata hameshorer
Az tishte kafe turki ze olami
im lo tashir az mi yashir az mi

Chashav al balada leretz avot
nafsho bo ra'ada nizkar bachovot
Tamid hem korim lo nose habsora
aval meshalmim lo lefi hashura
Hirkiv mishkafayim likro baiton
kasas tzipornayim hibit bashaon

Az tishte….

Naga bakarachat velo e’emin
Nichnas lamiklakat lakach aspirin
Ishto mefaheket rosha al hakar
Iashav lo besheket hebit banyiar
Madua lo ba lo chashav she’ivkeh
Ki ma ze hayia lo ha’am mechakeh

Az tishte….

He promised to send poems to the newspaper
but he doesn't feel like it, now.
He locked himself in his room and counted to three
He took his jumper off and broke his head
Opened the door and dreamt about women
He had an upset stomach and inner peace.

So drink turkish coffee and wake up
you are the poet.
So drink turkish coffee it's great
if you don't sing who will?

He thought of a ballad for his father land
his soul shuddered, he thought of his debts
They call him always the Profet, but
they pay him by the column
He put his glasses on, to read the paper
bit his nails and looked at the clock

So drink turkish coffee…

He touched his bald head and he din’t believe
He went to the shower and took an aspirin
His wife is yawning her head on the pillow,
He sat quietly, looked at the paper.
Why doesn’t it come to him? He thought he was going to cry,
For he almost had it, and the People is waiting…

So drink turkish coffee…

Promise al giornale dei versi, si sa,
ma non glie ne cale e forze non ha.
Si chiuse in salone, a dieci contò,
si tolse il maglione e si concentrò.
C’è un anta che stride, vorrebbe sognar,
ma, con la gastrite non sa come far.

Vatti a fare un buon caffè Ti sveglierai
Tu sei “Il Vate”, Sai.
Vatti a fare un buon caffè “Chicchirichì!”,
Che se non canti tu,
chi canterà mai più, chi?

Ballate al Paese vorrebbe cantar,
ma pensa alle spese, gli vien da tremar.
Lo chiamano “Il Vate”, ma allora perché
lo pagano a rate e non un gran che?
Si mise le lenti per leggere un po’,
le unghie tra i denti e l’ora guardò.

Vatti a fare...

Grattò la capoccia, ma niente là c’è.
Entrò nella doccia, si prese un cachet.
Sbadiglia la moglie, vorrebbe dormir,
ma son vuoti i fogli, e non sa cosa dir.
Però, che disdetta quest’ Ispirazion...
...e il Popolo aspetta la nuova canzon!

Vatti a fare…