Lyrics and translation Marcelo - Pismo vanzemaljcu (Dara I)

Pismo vanzemaljcu (Dara I)

Reći ćeš da smo te mi zvali, da nije fer
Da ti sada kažem: "Vrati se, ovo nije svet
Koji hrli da grli turiste i vrvi od vrlih, ne."
Zar da te lažem? Zar tebe? To je greh.
Praštaj za poziv, al' nismo ga ni slali svesno,
Niti sa željom da zbog nas letiš tako daleko,
Da napustiš zbog nas svoj mir, mrak i večnost.
Ti, dar i svetlost... ovde ti nije mesto.
Jer, život pored nas bio bi k'o život naš...
A nije vredno ni da fotkaš takav jedan pejzaž.
Čim dođeš, videće ti boju. Reći šta znači.
Šta si zbog nje. A onda će dodati začin:
Dodeliće ti naciju i kazati da je svetinja,
Da si i ti junak zbog junaštva svojih dedova,
Da si i ti loš zbog drugih iz svojih redova,
Da si i ti dobar jer je neko bio pre toga.
Ovo je tvoja zastava, ovo je tvoj dres.
Kada vidiš drugačije, ti nasrni kao zver.
Jer i oni su tako na tvoje, il' mi na njih,
Il' već nešto... al' kakve veze sa tim imaš ti?
Ljudi to zovu sudbinom. Licemerni blef.
To nije ruka više sile, no ruka ljudi od pre.
A kad se gleda iz tvog beskraja, to sve nema značaja.
Sve je čovek vajao prstima svoga očaja.

I eto, to je svet. Eto, to su ljudi.
Prazni i ludi. Mali i glupi. Tuđi.
Ne mogu da ti dozvolim da dođeš... oprosti.
Ne mogu da ti dozvolim da dođeš... razumi.

(Marčelo)
Dodeliće ti veru. I bićeš te vere.
I ginućeš ako treba za tu veru bezveze.
Objasniće ti da to Bog hoće od tebe
Oni što ga gledaju kroz prizmu svoje ćudi bedne.
Ulizuju se njemu isto k'o u firmi šefu:
Mole ga, cmizdre i stenju, traže od njega nešto.
Eto ti kako oni shvataju vrhovno dobro:
Kao sujetno biće koje želi ulagivanje vešto.
Simbol ljubavi shvataju k'o bolesni ego,
Kome treba da ga mravi hvale da mu bude lepo.
Kada tako pojme svetlost, kako tek pojme tamu?
Đavo u redu na birou rada prosi za hranu,
Jer suvišan je svetu gde je rat uvek u toku
Da ljudi dokažu čiji to bog ima većeg đoku.
Jer, ako ima boga, on je samo jedan.
I ne treba ti mač i crkva da mu budeš odan.
On od tebe jednostavno želi da budeš dobar,
A ne da plaćaš popa i da se šlihtaš do groba.
Ako sve ovo ikad kažeš, izdajnik si roda.
Jer ovde si to: vera, nacija i boja.
Ljudi umiru zbog toga, zbog slučajne lutrije,
A da su izvučeni drugde, sve bi bilo drukčije:
Voleli bi ono sto sad mrze jednakim žarom,
I opet bi im bilo vredno da to plate glavom.

Refren
I eto, to je svet. Eto, to su ljudi.
Prazni i ludi. Mali i glupi. Tuđi.
Ne mogu da ti dozvolim da dođeš... oprosti.
Ne mogu da ti dozvolim da dođeš... razumi.

Na kraju, ostaje onaj najteži zalogaj:
Da sprečimo tvoj dolazak i molimo oproštaj.
Oboje smo slomljeni, al' nemamo petlje za pokušaj...
Oprosti nam.
"Dobar dan... dosli smo zbog abortusa...

Letter to an Alien (Dara I)

You'll say we called you, that it's not fair,
For me to tell you now: "Go back, this isn't the world
That rushes to embrace tourists, teeming with virtue, no."
Should I lie to you? To you? That's a sin.
Forgive the invitation, but we didn't send it consciously,
Nor with the desire for you to fly so far because of us,
To leave your peace, darkness, and eternity for us.
You, a gift and light... you don't belong here.
Because life beside us would be like our life...
And such a landscape isn't even worth photographing.
As soon as you arrive, they'll show you the color. Tell you what it means.
What you are because of it. And then they'll add the spice:
They'll assign you a nation and say it's sacred,
That you're a hero because of your ancestors' heroism,
That you're also bad because of others from your ranks,
That you're also good because someone was before you.
This is your flag, this is your jersey.
When you see different, attack like a beast.
Because they do the same to yours, or we to them,
Or something... but what do you have to do with it?
People call it destiny. A hypocritical bluff.
It's not the hand of a higher power, but the hand of people from before.
And when viewed from your infinity, it all has no meaning.
Everything was sculpted by man with the fingers of his despair.

And so, this is the world. These are the people.
Empty and crazy. Small and stupid. Alien.
I can't let you come... I'm sorry.
I can't let you come... understand.

(Marcelo)
They'll assign you a faith. And you'll be of that faith.
And you'll die if you have to for that faith pointlessly.
They'll explain that God wants this from you,
Those who see him through the prism of their own wretched whims.
They suck up to him just like a boss at a company:
They beg him, whimper, and moan, asking for something from him.
There you have it, how they understand the supreme good:
As a vain being who desires skillful flattery.
They perceive the symbol of love as a sick ego,
Who needs ants to praise him to feel good.
When they understand light this way, how do they understand darkness?
The devil in line at the employment office begs for food,
Because he's superfluous in a world where war is always ongoing
For people to prove whose god has the bigger... you know.
Because if there is a god, there is only one.
And you don't need a sword and a church to be devoted to him.
He simply wants you to be good,
And not to pay a priest and grovel to the grave.
If you ever say all this, you're a traitor to your kin.
Because here you are that: faith, nation, and color.
People die because of that, because of a random lottery,
And if they were drawn elsewhere, everything would be different:
They would love what they now hate with the same fervor,
And it would still be worth paying for with their heads.

Chorus
And so, this is the world. These are the people.
Empty and crazy. Small and stupid. Alien.
I can't let you come... I'm sorry.
I can't let you come... understand.

In the end, the hardest bite remains:
To prevent your arrival and beg forgiveness.
We are both broken, but we don't have the guts to try...
Forgive us.
"Good morning... we've come for an abortion..."