A Warrior With Peasant Heart

Szerb

Ratnik Paorskog Srca

Kada se Braca devetnaeste vrn'o
s dalekog fronta 'di soldat je biv'o
Prič'o nam kako ga trefilo zrno,
pa zavrt'o rukav i to pokaziv'o
A mi, mi smo bili derani,
a mi, mi smo bili derani

Prič'o nam Braca o mirisu mora
i o patroli od koje je bež'o
I kako je opsov'o nekog majora
i zbog tog posle na robiji lež'o
A mi, mi smo bili derani,
a mi, mi smo bili derani

Prič'o nam kako je preš'o Karpate,
zujali meci k'o rojevi pčela
Rek'o je: Rat vam je krvav da znate,
al' nije mi žao ni ljudi ni sela
Hej, žao mi konja

Kada se Braca devetnaeste vrn'o
prič'o je svako veče na šoru
Kol'ko je curica usput prevrn'o
i kako topovi livade oru
A mi, mi smo bili derani,
a mi, mi smo bili derani

I čim Braca korak iz avlije kroči
skupi se društvo iz našeg sokaka
A svi smo imali velike oči,
prepuna srca i maštu dečaka
Pa da, jer tad smo bili derani,
pa da, tad smo bili derani

Psov'o je Braca i krivce i žrtve,
puške i vaške i rov prepun blata
Rek'o je: Ne možeš izbrojati mrtve
jer su se carevi igrali rata
Hej, žao mi konja

Negde u Braci je paorski koren
i može rata i rata da bude
Kad nije paor za soldata stvoren,
volije konje i zemlju neg' ljude

A mi, mi smo bili derani
i sve još je vredelo za nas
Hej, hej, konji beli nebom terani,
kroz san i kroz oblake u kas

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Angol

A Warrior With Peasant Heart

When, in 1919, Braca came back from a far battlefield where he was a soldier
He'd tell us about how a bullet hit him, and then pulled up his sleeve and showed it to us
And we, we were youngsters, and we, we were youngsters

Braca used to tell us about the smell of sea and about a patrol he'd ran from
and about how he cursed some major and then later did his time in jail because of it
And we, we were youngsters, and we, we were youngsters

He used to tell us about how he crossed over the Carpathian mountains, how bullets buzzed like swarms of bees
He said: War is a bloody thing you know, but I don't pitty the people nor the villages
Hey, I feel sorry for the horses

When Braca came back, in 1919, he'd tell stories every night in the neighborhood
How many girlies he had on the way and about cannons plowing meadows
And we, we were youngsters, and we, we were youngsters

And as soon as Braca would step out of the yard, our neighborhood crowd would gather
And our eyes were big, hearts full and imagination boyish
Well yes, because then we were youngsters, well yeah, we were youngsters then

... Read More (NB: The first lines might have been changed in the original translation)

Kűldve: Spring Péntek, 01/01/2010 - 00:00
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