| LUCY (Mirka) | D-MINOR (D-mol) |
REQUIEM (Rekvijem) |
I GROW OLD (Starim) |
LIFE IS A SEA (Zivot je more) |
PANONIAN SAILOR (Panonski mornar) |
A MEN WITH A MOON IN HIS EYES (Covek sa mesecom u ocima)
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LUCY
You must've heard of golden cup it's an old suspicios pub but it's stil a
deacent choice
I was sitting all alone drinking whisky and the coke suddenly I heard the
voice
I know you .. sorry .. from the TV show, we are proud of you, oh you must
know
my little doughter - she is only 9 - she knows your songs by hart, just
every line
to this extraordinary spech I kindly offered him a sit oh, that was all he
waited for
he sad to me excuse me mister, we're the band and there's my sister I would
like to tell you more
we don't realy want tu still your time we woud like to sing the modest rime
little song made by our selfs in fact we'd like to hear your view with all
respect
so he goes:
Lucy my only darling my little date I'd like to be there to see
under your window who serenades / makes you juicy
Lucy we could just live in our happines
If until today you would find the way to my gloomy heart
I sad I'll try to help them, As much as I could handle, but I'm singer and
that's all
He says you know about sound masters all they make are song disastors they
don't know about the soul
We've been singing for a lot of years getting nothing but the sweat and
tears listen to it please just once again
this is the right refrain the biggest hit:
Lucy...
Afterwards we had a talk what else about then soul and rock and we realy
drank: o dear !
Nowadays I only lose It's not that I just need excuse but the reason is so
clear
like a bad hallucianion I hear this odd interpretation chasing me it's
allways coming back
just like a boomerang that nice and funny chorus
PANONIAN SAILOR
I watch the Banat ,Srem and Bačka from the Fruškgora mountain
Seeing this it crashes down my soul
here was once a sea as goes the story
waiting for me dried out long ago
I'm born to be a sailor like Magellan
Or even better like the capitain Cook
in the flat land by the fields I'm loosing elan
Stranded in the wheat I'm sad sea-woolf
My sea is gone I don't know what to do now
My old man says the Danube's not so bad
My sea is gone but I still hope - maybe in vain
That one of this days we can meet again
So life of mine is bitter like a tonic
My sadness doestn't have the end it seems
but here is my lighthouse: "the moon" this is ironic
leading my pain across the waters of my dreams
My sea is gone so I cannot lay back and nastle
This story makes me cry and makes me laugh
We call it bad luck when sailors lose their vessel
but entire sea believe me that is tough
simon.rigac@siol.net , R.Broj 669
REQUIEM
While I'm walking down the street
That is named after you
I come to think of that song...
I haven't sang it for years now
That old refrein means nothing nomore
People don't remember songs for long
Oh, my Commander
and years from now
Books will still tell the stories about us:
Balkan at the end of this century
Each tribe draws o wn lines
Everybody wants their own page in the book
And dreams are broken, like the icebergs
Oh, my Commander
And where are we, naives
That stood up for ' Hej Slaveni' (duplo znacenje?!)
As if we were made up together with that story...
The tims are not good
For the guy like me
who mindes his own busines
I do things my way
The only thing I have is Yugoslvia
That's the only thing
That I burn for
My Commander
On the barricades I see flags again
And people marcs like it is national-day
And kids are takin out of schools
To see starving workers...
And everyone is there to win
At that 'lottery'
Behind the barricades you'll find
The biggest of us...
Not the wisest.
And where are we, naives
That stood up for ' Hej Slaveni'
As if we were made up together with that story...
And fooled all along with it...
While I'm walking down the street
That is named after you
I come to think of Panta Rei...
Someone is truying to ruine
The monument ogf you...
'couse everything is at change...
And thime is runnig...
My Man
Translated by Ana Magazinovic e8ana@etek.chalmers.se
You wander away sometimes.
I try to sleep alone.
It doesn’t work.
D-minor shows up every time.
Glides down the strings like a thief.
Fills my hands with your little things.
Declines to leave.
A D-minor breaks me totally
Sadness, some would say.
How could sadness be compared
to D-minor?
It holds me firmly,
Wouldn’t loosen.
Adores the silence,
Would never miss it.
Takes me to it’s bluish home.
A D-minor breaks me totally
Sadness, some would say.
How could sadness be compared
to D-minor?
Sometimes, when you are away
All alone, I try to somehow fool the day.
But D-minor is smart.
Waits for the lights to get misted
Lets the last stars fade away.
Drags me by the sleeve: "Come!"
Where are you? It worries me.
So many things might have happened…
D-minor, stupid, whom do you grieve
All night long.
Takes me in his obscure carriage.
The sky gets the color of your eyes.
I know that road, it’s a shortcut to pain.
A D-minor breaks me totally
Sadness, some would say.
How could sadness be compared
to D-minor?
A book with few pages left unread.
Cute, china little things,
A jacket that you wore.
A record and a fine, blue
Powder box.
And I was left behind.
Wanting you for as long as I live.
My dear…
LIFE IS A SEA
Life is a sea,
a black opened sea
that swallows many
of them who sail.
But my heart isn´t
a scarry deer
Of so much water
I´m not afraid.
The waves may break me
the streams may take me
of happiness ebbs
and sorrow of tides.
The sky may whip me
by whips of thunder
But I´ll still be holding and
I still will be there.
On early mornings the shadows
of a day
long gone by
are trying to scare me away.
Foggy memories
just like in a lie,
just like in a dream.
But I am still fighting
and I am still hoping
The less I am flying
the more I am falling
The stronger are arms
that hold me downstream.
Maybe a woman
with silky thighs,
the one who calls me,
reaches her arms
some winds into
my sails will pour
to another woman
another harbour.
Life is a sea.
Life is a sea.
Life is a sea
Translated by: Zdenka
Tired and mute, like a thunder splited tree
looking into the bottomless glass
he seemed strange yet normal at the first site
but then I saw the reflecting moon in his eye
He spoke to me:
Well, how´s the business going.
It goes, I murmured, to the hell.
So he stood up suddenly
looked at me threateningly.
You have no idea, dear brothers
what it means to kill a town
you don´t know the fears of dirty trenches.
You don´t know what it means to sleep now.
When I close my eyes nothing except those roofs.
When I close my eyes I see the birds in the sky
I smell guest rooms, hear wedding bells,
When I close my eyes the faces are passing by on the skys
the swarm of tamburitsa trembles, the Danube sinks to North…
The beast of madness, oh why have you woke?
The prince of darkness gave you a kiss.
But I´m not ashamed that the God to me will never show
anyway it isn´t the God I used to know.
You don´t know anything,
there are no liberated,
my every silence by the granade is frustrated
The only one saved was
the one very first hit.
All of us others remain
hostages of eternal nightmare.
When I close my eyes
the ships are passing by on the skys
Bells, dog bark, neighbourhood quarrels,
smell of fresh ploughing…
but when it dawns, the river winds are whining
I know it´s murmaids´ crying
The dark Danube sinks
Translated by: Zdenka
I GROW OLDThe morning finds me alone
like a shell in the sand
shadows on the wall
sketching a fresco
the whole night long.
I was looking for a rhyme
I almost felt it at some time
then from my mind they drop…
The new day intrude – the trick is so nude
only to make the passed one stop.
The morning finds me in a real chaos of topics
the slight system decay in my verses
but in secret links with some long gone drinks
the song is coming close again
it still has no name, like a silky blouse
through my fingers glides.
I forget the names
the faces remain though
the by passers I recognize by code
The hell, it tells me I grow old
I forget the boring frames.
I forget the addresses of small bars by the road
and girls, who were always good so much
some clearness may be irreversibly spoiled
but never the silky touch.
The morning finds me again planing the escape
whenever I slow – the long gone curse is on a go
but these are only moments
brought by bad winds
only small eternities
only the years when one gets nuts
like after that bitter liquid drops.
I forget the names
the faces remain though
the by passers I recognize by code
The hell, it tells me I grow old
I forget the boring frames.
I forget the addresses of small bars by the road
and girls, who were always good so much
some clearness may be irreversibly spoiled
but never the silky touch.
Translated by: Zdenka