Lyrics and translation Djordje Balasevic - Prica o Vasi L.

Prica o Vasi L.

Znate l′ pricu o Vasi Ladackom
I ja sam je tek onomad cuo
Jednom devet dana nije izlazio iz birtije
Kazu da je bio cudna sorta

Otac mu je bio sitni paor
'Ranio je sedam gladnih usti
Mati mu je bila plava
Tiha, nezna, jekticava
Umrla je s trideset i nesto

Imali su par jutara zemlje
Malu kucu na kraju sokaka
Na astalu navek hleba
Taman tol′ko kol'ko treba
Al' je Vasa hteo mnogo vise

Zeleo je konje vrane, po livadi razigrane
Sat sa zlatnim lancem i salase
Zeleo je njive plodne, vinograde blagorodne
U karuce pregnute cilase
Ali nije mog′o da ih ima

Voleo je lepu, al′ sirotu
Uz'o bi je samo da je znao
Voles jednom u zivotu
Sad bogatu il′ sirotu
To ne bira pamet nego srce

Sve se nad'o da ce ljubav proci
Zanavek je otis′o iz sela
Nikad nije pis'o nikom
Venc′o se sa mirazdzikom
Jedinicom, kcerkom nekog gazde

Dobio je konje vrane, po livadi razigrane
Sat sa zlatnim lancem i salase
Dobio je njive plodne, vinograde blagorodne
U karuce pregnute cilase
Sve je im'o - nista im'o nije

Propio se, nije proslo mnogo
Dusu svoju djavolu je prod′o
Znali su ga svi birtasi
Trazio je spas u casi
Ali nije mog′o da ga nadje

Mlad je, kazu, bio kad je umro
'Sred birtije od srcane kapi
Klonula mu samo glava
Ko da drema, ko da spava
I jos pamte sta je zadnje rek′o

Dzaba bilo konja vranih, po livadi razigranih
Dzaba bilo sata i salasa
Dzaba bilo njiva plodnih, vinograda blagorodnih
Dzaba bilo karuca, cilasa
Kada nisam s onom koju volem
Kada nisam s onom koju volem

Znate l' pricu o Vasi Ladackom
I ja sam je tek onomad cuo
Cak i oni slicni njemu
Kada razmisle o svemu
Kazu da je bio cudna sorta

Prica o Vasi L.

Have you heard the tale of Vasa Ladacki
I've only heard it recently as well
Once upon a time, for nine days straight, he didn't leave the tavern
They say he was a strange sort of fellow

His father was a humble farmer
He fed seven hungry mouths
His mother was blonde
Quiet, shy, consumptive
She died in her early thirties

They had a few acres of land
A small house at the end of an alley
Always bread on the table
Just enough, no more
But Vasa wanted so much more

He longed for black horses, galloping across the meadow
A gold watch and chain, and stables
He wished for fertile fields, vineyards of the finest grapes
Carriages pulled by sleek horses
But he couldn't have them

He fell in love with a beautiful, but poor girl
He would have married her if only he had known
You only love once in your life
Whether they're rich or poor
Your heart chooses, not your mind

He kept hoping his love would grow
So he left the village for good
He never wrote to anyone
He married an heiress
An only child, daughter of a wealthy man

He got his black horses, galloping across the meadow
A gold watch and chain and stables
He got his fertile fields, vineyards of the finest grapes
Carriages pulled by sleek horses
He had it all - yet had nothing

He drank himself away, it didn't take long
He sold his soul to the devil
All the bartenders knew him
He sought solace in the glass
But he couldn't find it

They say he was young when he died
In the tavern, from a heart attack
His head just lolled
As if he were dreaming, as if he were sleeping
And they still remember the last thing he said

All for naught, my black horses, galloping across the meadow
All for naught, my watch, my stables
All for naught, my fertile fields, my vineyards of the finest grapes
All for naught, my carriages, my sleek horses
When I'm not with the one I love
When I'm not with the one I love

Have you heard the tale of Vasa Ladacki
I've only heard it recently as well
Even those who are like him
When they think about it all
Say he was a strange sort of fellow