Bluz mutne vode [English translation]

Many things are born in muddy water

A sly barbel and a stupid zander

Carp and perch, a thief and a knave

And fishes that live on other's account

The little avoid the bigger ones

You ain't careful, and you're out in a moment

Wherever they run, they end up in the nets

Someone is born to become a pray.

I sing my blues, with no real intention,

Even the biggest fishes are small to me.

I only watch that world from aside.

But I get deceived and cheated on too

Everyone becomes a perch sometimes,

That is a routine, at least.

If you live in muddy water,

You need to know all the tricks

In muddy water, that pleases many

especially the ones at the top and the bottom.

Everyone knows the point, the pike (is) at the top,

They are here to spoil and make ruckus

And down at the bottom, someone's pitiful destiny

is decided by some catfish.

I sing my blues, with no real purpose,

Even the biggest fishes are small to me

I simply watch that world from aside

I sing my blues in the heart of the depth,

and mostly hold on to golden middle.

That is a routine at least, a routine.

What is the point of life in muddy water?

Well, the predators have their rule.

The perch is a dimwit, but he is big

so he devours the small fishes with pleasure.

In bad days, when the water (level) falls down,

timid fishes aren't worth a penny

The crisis occurs, it bites differently,

and only the best ones still swim.

I only sing my blues, with no actual point,

Even the greatest fishes are small to me

I simply watch that world from aside

I sing my blues in a deaf whirlpool

and wonder what do the fish on the dry land do,

and that is a routine, at least.