Djordje Balasevic – Menuet

U pet i petnaest je zvonio sat
jednoga jutra na kraju leta
u sest i deset je kretao voz
s nekog perona na kraju sveta
mene je cekao taj voz

Kraj mojih nogu je spavao pas
rekoh mu tiho, hej, bezi odatle
otvorih vrata, izadjoh na trem
na kom su cvetale bele muskatle
pomislih, to je mozda taj dom

Nije me cula, mirno je snila svoje lepeze
i svece, i cipke
snila je dane, mirne i nezne
ko crno bele klavirske tipke
a u zivotu, sama na svetu
u menuetu trazila spas

Sidjoh pred kucu na prasnjavi put
ko neki lopov, polako i tiho
ja nisam bio taj vitez za nju
mada mi govore da sam Don Kihot
al’ to je sasvim druga stvar

Bila je zvezda, bila je pesma
svaki dan druga, a vecito ista
snila je dobra stara vremena
i svog Sopena, i Baha, i Lista
mozda ce sama u grubom svetu
u menuetu naci svoj mir

Od tad je prosao vek ili dva
Javi se retko, ponekom kartom
i ko zna gde je, ne zelim da zna
koliko ceznem za dalekim martom
kad sam je sreo prvi put

Bila je zvezda, bila je pesma
svaki dan druga, a vecito ista
snila je dobra stara vremena
i svog Sopena, i Baha, i Lista
a u zivotu, sama na svetu
u menuetu trazila spas

Jos uvek lutam, gde je kraj puta
pamte me mnoge provincijske pruge
kriju me mracne, jeftine krcme
noci su ponekad guste i duge

Nestajem tada
u nekom svom svetu i menuetu
i menuetu

tn_Balasevic _Odlazi cirkus

English Translation

Minuet

At five fifteen the alarm went off
one morning at summer’s end
ten minutes after six, a train was leaving
from a platform at the end of the world
The train was waiting for me

A dog was sleeping  next to my legs,
I told him quietly: hey, get lost!
I opened the door, went out onto the porch
where white pelargoniums blossomed
I thought: maybe that’s the home

She didn’t hear me, she was peacefully dreaming of her fans
and flowers, and laces
she was dreaming of days, peaceful and gentle
like the black and white piano keys
and in reality, alone in the world,
she sought salvation in minuet

I went off in front of the house on a dusty road
like a thief, slowly and quietly
I wasn’t the knight for her
although they say I’m a Don Quixote
but that’s an entirely different thing

She was a star, she was a song
every day different, but eternally the same
She dreamt of the good old times
and of her Chopin, Bach and Liszt
Maybe alone in a harsh world she will,
in minuet, find her peace

A century or two have passed
Now and then she sends a card
And who knows where she is, I don’t want her to know
how much I long for the long gone March
when I first met her

She was a star, she was a song
every day different, but eternally the same
She dreamt of the good old times
and of her Chopin, Bach and Liszt
and in reality, alone in the world,
she sought salvation in minuet

I’m still wandering, where’s the end of the road
many provincial railroads remember me
dark, cheap taverns are hiding me
the nights are sometimes thick and long

Then I disappear
into a world of my own and in minuet
in minuet

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