In Popa Nan there is an old bearded photographer
Kids on the street say he's a God.
He knows either you're good or bad
from your face, from your face.
Under a pipe, there is the statue of a grey girl
holding a basket of cement grapes
Down in the house there are three grey girls
with indecent behaviour
Chorus x2
Popa Nan is a street to Traian Hall
from Foişor to Vitan Market.
At a corner, is a florist that sells us flowers
Always cries for nothing and has curly hair
When she rarely laughs, only on holidays,
All her flowers have no price.
Chorus x2
In Popa Nan there's a barbershop with no customers
Old people stay in its door talking around
And the bald and fat barber sings
some party songs
Chorus x2
Daily, a postman with coffee eyes is there
All the girls read from him and write him post cards
But his girl that was in the neighbourhood
she is nowhere to be found, nowhere...
Chorus x4