Two guitars behind the wall
Whined plaintively the tune,
Memorable to my heart.
“Sweetheart, can it be you?”

Chorus:
Eh, once and one more time,
And many, many more times!
Eh, once and one more time,
And many, many more times!

Wind, field, cornflowers,
And the distant road.
The heart is whining from yearning,
There is an uneasiness in my soul.

Please, talk to me already,
My seven string guitar!
All my soul is full of you,
And the night is full of moonlight.

Where does it hurt? What hurts?
The head hurts from a hangover.
We drink today. We drink tomorrow.
We drink the whole week through.