Odiseo Lyrics (English Translation) – Al Safir

Odiseo (English Translation) Lyrics Meaning

[Verse 1 – Al Safir]
In the opening lines, the artist is talking about using sadness or emotional expression as a way to gain something, like wealth or attention. It’s like he’s saying he can make money off of a broken heart or a sad face. He reflects on how much he misses a girl who used to be everything to him, especially in an intimate way. Her voice and presence had a magical, seductive pull like a siren’s song—beautiful but dangerous. He compares her legs to expensive cured ham, suggesting she was extremely attractive and desirable. Still, even with all that, he insists he wouldn’t let himself lose everything over her—he tries to show strength, even if it sounds like he’s battling inside.

Then he paints a scene of indulgence and distraction—he’s surrounded by women, high on hash, and yet still emotionally numb. Even though the girl didn’t come from much, she’s ended up costing him a lot—emotionally, financially, maybe even mentally. And despite all the pain and confusion, there’s still this part of him that would do anything just to see her face again. That shows he’s torn between pride and longing.

He talks about feeling physically lighter, maybe from stress or heartbreak, but the emotional weight is still heavy. If another woman betrays him again, he jokes that he should be checked into a hospital—it’s affecting his mind that much. He says he’d rather go back to jail than stay broke, showing how desperation and survival have shaped his mindset. He’s also describing love in a way that sounds like debt—like every kiss she gave him is something he’s still paying off, little by little.

He then switches tone and compares himself to a gladiator heading back into the arena, which is life for him—a brutal fight. People are coming at him from all angles, but he stands firm. He references Odysseus, the Greek hero who went through endless struggles just to get back home, suggesting he sees himself in that same kind of journey. There’s regret in the line where he wonders if it’s his fault for not treating the girl better. And when he sees her with someone else, it hits him deeply, like a taste he can’t forget.

He gets harsh and calls her out as someone who’s been around the block, someone rough and hardened. He admits that he doesn’t want more of whatever they had because it’s too much—it’s wearing him down. There’s a shift where he talks about turning dreams into reality: he used to only imagine riches, but now he’s got the gold and jewelry to prove it. Still, even his success comes with discomfort—his chain is shiny, but it makes him sweat, almost like it’s a burden.

He brings in luxury and love—steak, butter, calling her his wonder—he’s mixing affection and indulgence. But then he asks her not to beg or get too vulnerable, like he’s uncomfortable with emotional dependence even if he feels deeply.

The phrase “another day, another dollar” shows how routine the hustle has become. Life is a grind. He likens himself to the character from *Kill Bill*, dressed in yellow with a katana, ready to fight. He’s willing to do drügs to stay focused, or maybe just to cope—it gives him a numbed feeling like Xanax. He talks about smoking in sketchy places, like vans without windows, showing how low things have gotten sometimes.

When he says he’ll talk to her tomorrow, it sounds like a lie he told himself—maybe she disappeared, or maybe things just fell apart. He compares her to the Queen of Sheba, someone powerful and hard to understand. Then he talks about stepping into dangerous places with courage, even though one wrong move could cost him everything. He’s always on guard.

He sees himself as a purebred, someone made for this life. Watching the film *The Maltese Falcon* inspired him to go chase down what he wants. He’s dealing with multiple problems at once, comparing his life to Gaza—chaotic and under siege. With so many women out there causing drama, he says he’d be crazy to settle down. But he’s still a fighter—he doesn’t rest, doesn’t eat, just keeps pushing.

He’s made his deals and doesn’t need more friends—he’s had enough of fake loyalty. He jokes that the people around him are more stubborn than famous soccer player Figo. He always carries guilt or burdens, calling life a kind of pilgrimage. Before doing something illegal or risky, he even crosses himself—like asking for forgiveness before sinning.

He lives in a world where the dead seem more present than the living—maybe he’s talking about trauma or the violent lifestyle around him. He knows a lot of people, but he only trusts a few. He drives fast, lives fast, without fear. He casually mentions spending hundreds on clothes and enjoying it—it’s about living in the moment.

At the end, he shifts into a fantasy vibe—calling him and a girl Aladdin and Jasmine, heading to party. It’s playful, sensual, but also rich with cultural flavor. Their crew moves like a military group—tight, loyal, maybe dangerous. And he keeps his faith strong while throwing shade at celebrities, saying he’s not about that flashy, fake lifestyle. It’s a mix of chaos, love, pain, and survival.