Pisacu joj pisma duga

My moon, the evening's falling, where are you?
Everywhere's dark, my dear's all alone, do you see?
Flowers, grass, everything's asleep tonight,
Hey cities, where the hell are these roads taking me?

Shining star, who are you dreaming of tonight, ask her.
Are her hands waiting for me or not?
Tell my soul, my heart's a little deceived.
Hey cities, where the hell are these roads taking me?

I’ll write her long letters,
from the countryside, from Drniš,
warm postcards from the south,
from Banat, Bosnia, Niš...

I’ll send her my pictures,
where Istra and Pula can be seen,
at least there’s something of mine,
to comfort her, to protect her, to keep her safe.