Lipa zelenela je [English translation]

We, her class, 8a, sang at the funeral

The linden tree grew green, because she got run over by a truck

My classmate, across the head, which I dared to look at,

In a white shirt, flowers in my hands, after they fixed it up

You know, plaster and some skin on top

A chair was carried behind her mother. She cried and passed out.

The linden tree grew green, because we didn't love her, she passed away,

Did the only good thing that she died in May.

Today it sounds mean, but then:

Students, quiet! Instead of physics, we'll have a singing lesson.

Then she arose from our essays, beautiful, good-natured and mischievous

The linden tree grew green and I lied that we hid

In the biology room, between the lancelet and domestic rabbits

And I lied to all my later girlfriends

That my first was run over by a truck

And that when we made out, she whispered:

Not here, not here, not now, later.

It still comes in handy today, when I get drunk

In some new and pleasant company: The linden tree grew green,

I tell them, and always embellish the story.

With her long lovely legs I begrudge her

That she stayed tenderly young, and while I walk back home with her,

I remember that the last time we drank together,

I already told them everything about her.

Not here, not here, not now, later.