I don't speak Hungarian very well, a little bit, and even with a mistake.
I speak fluently with my hands and smile perfectly.
But I don't know Hungarian, come on, teach me,' Leba you!
I couldn't have thought that I would need so much.
Your inky eyes, black ripe Spanish cherries,
your lips as sweet as Riesling from the Lanska harvest,
dry grass all mushy, like chiffon on a bride
but I don't tell stories for nothing when I can't translate.
Oh, where will you find a better one? a guy for that money?
Don't be ridiculous dear,
you can search forever,
but you won't find anyone, like guitars,
who will love you more
and who will lie better.
I barely know Szent Tomazs, but I reach your house.
I softly rattle a match, I'm hoping for everything: maybe you'll find it.
But the pendőžeros are still, and those laced firanges
are only fueling the fire with your fingered hand. Is there a better guy for that money?
If he and you were happy for me,
I would hide from my mother,
he would tie me to a silk cord like a bell
and just call me when you want
- I'll ring you.
I speak Hungarian poorly, a little bit, and that too.
I learned from reading, But I stayed on the eighth side.
The grandmothers bewitched me with a feather from the wing of a migrant,
but you will save me, my honey bee.
And hold a felhok moge rejtozott,
ket csillag csak oz egen
mint a szemed,
mint a gyongyharmatka...
... tja, I don't know how to say ÄurÄ