Da li znas, i ja sam nekada imao grad
ulice, draga lica u dvoristu
pod kestenom stol, nekada
prasnjava slika i cesta od sna
curice, drugova pjesma
u dusi se budi djetinjstvo
Zamisli, mirise lipa i ljeto je tu
kasnije snjegovi, pramen sam magle
pod neonskim svijetlom u zimu
pricam ti, im’o sam druga k’o brata ja
sada pustinja, ceznjiva pisma
pacifik od tuge i sjecanja, kazu sudbina
Ta kurva bol ime mora imati i razlozi
milion prica, al’ svaka vodi samo do pustosi
pitam, da li znas, a znam da ne znas
nit’ ces ikad shvatiti
a i zasto bi, oprosti, to gorka tecnost
iz mene gluposti govori
Nije nostalgija, ta je romanticno
nevino cedo spram ovih stanja
necu da spominjem rat i uzase
politiku i slicna sranja
necu da ponavljam, pravda ne postoji
ta to je jasno bar
hocu da dopustim suzu ljubavi
sa njom sam divan par
kasno je, znam
Curi noc, svaka je mala vjecnost za mene
da, znam, moras poc, o, kako nervira
kad zadnji autobusi se izgube
pitam, da li znas, i ja sam nekada imao grad
ulice, draga lica u dvoristu
pod kestenom stol
ah, vec sam ti pricao to
English Translation
I’ve Already Told You About That
Do you know, I also used to have a town,
streets, dear faces in the backyard,
a table under a chestnut tree…long ago…
a dusty picture and a road made of dreams…
little girls…a friend’s song…
childhood arising in my soul…
Imagine… smell of lime… and the summer is here…
later snows…I’m a lock of fog under a neon light in the winter…
I’m telling you… I used to have a friend like a brother to me…
now desert, longing letters…
Pacific of sorrow and memories…they say destiny…
That bitch pain must have a name… and reasons…
million stories, but each of them leading only to nothingness…
I’m asking if you know…and I know that you don’t know
nor will you ever understand…
and why would you…
Forgive me, it’s a bitter liquid in me talking nonsense…
It’s not nostalgia…that is a romantic,
innocent baby, compared to this stuff…
I wont even mention the war and horrors,
politics, and similar shits…
I wont repeat… there is no justice…
Well at least that is clear…
I want to let a tear of love,
I’m a great match with it.
It’s too late, I know…
The night is ending…
each of them is a small infinity for me.
Yes, I know, you have to go,
oh how annoying it is when you miss the last buses…
I’m asking, …whether you know that I also used to have a town,
streets…dear faces in the backyard… a table under a chestnut tree…
Oh, I’ve already told you about that.
Toliko ima prelepe poezije sa nasih prostora, a tako malo prevedene na univerzalni jezik…
Hvala zana! 🙂
uhhh,kakva pesmetina,i jos draze mi je to sto je neko preveo na engleski.I samo se nadam da mnogi ce je cuti jos!Jer ovo budi,seca,i nadam se uci!hvala