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Julija (Jablani tuže jalovi)

Tamburu mi prod'o Cigan
slatkorečiv i prefrigan
čukununuk prosjaka i begova
omakne se prst na struni
nesretna me pesma zbuni
ne znam da l' je moja ili njegova
 
Ma, nek' me spali grom ko senjak
ako ima šta za čim bi zalio
proklet da je obešenjak
tugu mi je s' tamburom uvalio
 
Darov'o mi knjigu rabin
ubojitu k'o karabin
ako umeš laž od laži probrati
al' već odavno ne znam više
da l' je čitam il' je pišem
ja zaustim a mudrac se obrati
 
I tako, u mastiku suza kane
muti čašu, pa i dane zamuti
ja sam sebe manji komad
veći deo čini Nomad
a taj čudak nešto bunca
njemu nikad dosta sunca
 
Jablani tuže jalovi
i dok ih slušam
uvek me hvata ritam jata
žal za jugom
prolaze nebom ždralovi
i ova duša i noćas ore tamo gore
za tim plugom
 
Ukrao mi ljubav lopov
sin doktorov,unuk popov
odveo je u zemlju bez snegova
u snove mi bosa bane
pripretim joj da zastane
da l' je u snu moja ili njegova
 
I tako, krckam dane k'o orase
šta zagorči ne mora se zagristi
sejem svet kroz sitno sito
tražim nešto naročito
pokajnika i begunca
nekog s' one strane sunca
 
Jablani tuže jalovi
i dok ih slušam
uvek me hvata ritam jata
žal za jugom
prolaze nebom ždralovi
i ova duša i noćas ore tamo gore
za tim plugom
 
Jablani tuže jalovi
i dok ih slušam
uvek me hvata ritam jata
žal za jugom
prolaze nebom ždralovi
i ova duša i noćas ore tamo gore
za tim plugom
 
Übersetzung

Julija (Mourning of the Barren Poplars)

One Gypsy sold me a tamburitza
He was silver-tongued and shrewd
Great-great-grandson of beggars and beys
A finger slips on the string
Unfortunate song confuses me
So I don't know is it mine or his
 
Oh, let the lighting incinerate me like the hay
If there is anything I would regret
Damn he be, that scapegrace
He gave me sorrow with tamburitza
 
One Rabbi gave me a book
It was deadly like the carbine
If you can weed out the lies
But for very long time I don't know
if I'm reading it or writing it
I open my mouth, but the sage speaks
 
And so, a tear drops in the mastic
Stirs the glass, but also the days
I am becoming less and less of myself
But more and more a Nomad
And that weirdo always rants
He never gets tired of the Sun
 
The barren poplars mourn
And while I listen to them
I get caught in the rhythm of the flock
And the grief for the South
In the sky cranes are flying
And this soul ploughs up there
With that plow
 
One thief stole my love
He was a son of doctor, grandson of a priest
He took her into the land with no snow
She comes into my dreams barefoot
I say her to stop and say
Is she mine or his in the dream
 
And so, I crack days as walnuts
What gets bitter needs not to be eaten
I sift the world through the fine sieve
Looking for something special
Penitent and the fugitive
Somebody on the other side of the Sun
 
The barren poplars mourn
And while I listen to them
I get caught in the rhythm of the flock
And the grief for the South
In the sky cranes are flying
And this soul ploughs up there
With that plow
 
The barren poplars mourn
And while I listen to them
I get caught in the rhythm of the flock
And the grief for the South
In the sky cranes are flying
And this soul ploughs up there
With that plow
 
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