Flyv min fugl over byens tavse tage
Bжr bшrnenes drшmme med pе din ryg
Stille rejser dagen med mеnens hvide segl
Skжr' gennem natten en fremmed strand
Aja, aja,aja
Afsted afsted afsted afsted
Med de forbudte tanker
Nшgne rшdder spredt pе jorden
Kappet i udkanten af storbyens beton
Fyraftenens svundne stemmer, dagens historie
Hvisker i min hеndfuld kastanjer
Aja, aja, aja ...

Sе stille her er: en sommer uden mund
Her hvor gшglerne tжnder ild i hшje hatte
Hvor leende drenge med sabler ud af halsen,
Balancerer pе blodige lanser ….
Aja, aja aja ….

Hvornеr skal jeg se jer
Mine stolte sшskende
Smile mellem rшde pelargonier
Aja, aja, aja ….

Compressed translation by Thomas Koppel:

Fly my bird
Over the quiet roofs of the city
Carry the dreams of the children on your back
Quietly the day travels with the moons' white sickle
Cuts through the night a foreign beach
Aia, on & on, with the forbidden thoughts

Naked roots scattered on the ground
Polled in the outskirts of the city's concrete
The vanished voices of knock-off time, the history of the day
Whisper in my handful of chestnuts

How quiet it is! A summer without mouth
Here where jugglers put top hats on fire
Where smiling boys with swords sticking out of the throat
Balance on bloody lances

When will I see you
My proud sisters & brothers
Smiling between red geraniums
Aia, on & on, with the forbidden thoughts