"Some Nourishing Lyrics" Slovenia Travelogue by KristaB

Imagine the sound of slightly rough masculine voice, slow chanson tempo and the scent of ...

Onion Fried Potatoes - by Zoran Predin

A wonderful greeting to you,
my dear Iolanda,
sends your boyfriend - me
from those years that vanished in oblivion
I came to find some health
on your family farm,
a rachitic whiner on milk and honey.

We would wake up so early
as the sun was licking off
the morning dew from grass,
and we'd dip our bare feet into the warmth
of cow’s fresh turd.

The years have passed, the puberty too,
I got the job in our family's pub,
I looked at the cook, but she wasn't anything like that girl,
the one I used to catch butterflies with.

The scent of the watermelons trapped in a blouse,
the scent of the hips swinging with the rhythm,
the scent of your laughter, scent of your breath on my hand wiping off your tears,
the scent of the sound of sirens, the scent of letters, silky words,
the scent of our own War and Peace,
but the most wonderful was the scent of your onion fried potatoes.

I’m still a sailor
on the ship Koper
in Djakarta we’re loading coal and steel.
I’ll go mad from all that rice prepared in thousand ways,
I’m sick of all fruits and vitamins.
Memories of scents make me drool,
My soul raises another glass of drink.
Oh how I wish I could be on that farm
to lift you up from cow's turd on our wedding day.

The scent of the watermelons trapped in a blouse,
the scent of the hips swinging with the rhythm,
the scent of your laughter, scent of your breath on my hand wiping off your tears,
the scent of the sound of sirens, the scent of letters, silky words,
the scent of our own War and Peace,
but the most wonderful was the scent of your onion fried potatoes.