Paroles et traduction Marcelo - Komplikovani

Komplikovani

Jednog od ovih dana, ulitan kao đubre,
Dok mi oko leša đuskaju svetice i kurve,
Dok kašljem komadiće upropašćene jetre,
I rukom što se trese napipavam cigarete...
Nišanim usta dok blenem u belinu,
Nije droga nego plafon, jer sam zaspao na podu,
Ne samo too drunk to fuck, nego too drunk to talk,
U pokušaju da kažem: "jdhb*cneb#$%&i4nu hitnu pomoć..."
E, dakle, jednog od tih dana, a svaki je takav,
Makar bauljao, ima da pogodim vrata,
Da te nađem, da ti kažem koj' sam šaban,
što će za tobom crći na deponiji sranja.
Biću oblak u pantalonama, muž i tata,
I nema znaka pitanja, sve uzvičnici sada.
Samo dok se sastave duša, muda, glava...
Jednog od ovih dana... možda danas?

Zamisli da nismo komplikovani.
Da sam malo manje ja. Da si malo manje ti.
Menjaj sebe da se nađemo u tački...
Samo, ko će onda biti ti ljudi?

Večeras, glumim da sam jebač.
U, kako jebem. Jak sam kao zemlja!
A u stvari, vrištim tvoje ime, mrtav sjeban.
Daj, zajebi sve, slomi se i budi...

Ti nikad nećeš znati
Kako boli kad si sam dok komšinica ima glasan seks...
Ona pišti, vrišti, stenje, backo je jebe k'o da mu poslednje...
Ja iskapljujem ovu flašu, iznutra sav iskasapljen posle nje.
...i sve vreme slušaju Cecu i pesmu kako po navici spava u istoj majici,
što znači da je znojavo u materinu i da smrdi ovnujski.
Al' ti novi klinci su dovoljno bizarni da ih to zapravo napali,
Pa mi pišaju po samoći svakim tim uzdahom rafalnim...

Sanjam taj san u kom si stavila u kupe
To predivno dupe. U taj grozni kupe.
I sve je puno guštera, mile po tebi, ljube,
Ližu tvoju kožu svojim jezikom od plute.
Tu pored pruge, nešto poput krčme.
Tu ja sisam vinjak i gledam kako da crknem.
Salun a la Divlji Zapad, kockari i trulež,
Na revolveru ruka, na bini đuskaju kurve.
Guram sise u oči, gledam s kime da se bijem.
Slomiće mi ruke, vežbam nogama da pijem.
Al' odjednom dođe šerif, otima mi flajku,
Traži dokumenta, na mene dig'o je hajku.
Haiku: "Аj dirni tu flajku, jebem ti majku!"
On skida zvezdu, baca k'о šuriken... jao, majko...
Dok skupljam creva, opet traži dokumenta.
Kažem: "Evo, sad ću..." – al' lične nema.
Ni pasoša. Sve je kod tebe. A slične nema.
Bez tebe ne znam ko sam, bez tebe ne znam 'de sam.
Istrčavam... posrćem o bubreg, creva, kost,
Ali nema te. Sjebao sam. Proš'o voz.
Pa zamišljam da nismo komplikovani,
Da sam ja malo manje ja i da si ti manje ti...
Ali, ko bi onda bili ti ljudi? I gde je strepnja?
Takva mi smetaš, al' takva mi trebaš.

Zamisli da nismo komplikovani.
Da sam malo manje ja. Da si malo manje ti.
Menjaj sebe da se nađemo u tački...
Samo, ko će onda biti ti ljudi?

Večeras, glumim da sam jebač.
U, kako jebem. Jak sam kao zemlja!
A u stvari, vrištim tvoje ime, mrtav sjeban.
Daj, zajebi sve, slomi se i budi...

Complicated

One of these days, wasted like trash,
While saints and whores dance around my corpse,
As I cough up pieces of my ruined liver,
And with trembling hands, feel for cigarettes...
I aim for my mouth, staring into whiteness,
It's not drugs, it's the ceiling, because I fell asleep on the floor,
Not just too drunk to fuck, but too drunk to talk,
Trying to say: "f*cking call an ambulance..."
So, one of those days, and every day is like that,
Even if I'm stumbling, I'll find your door,
To find you, to tell you what a mess I am,
Dying for you on a landfill of shit.
I'll be a cloud in trousers, a husband and a father,
And there's no question mark, it's all exclamation points now.
Just until my soul, balls, and head come together...
One of these days... maybe today?

Imagine if we weren't complicated.
If I was a little less me. If you were a little less you.
Change yourself so we can meet at a point...
But then, who would those people be?

Tonight, I'm pretending to be a stud.
Oh, how I fuck. I'm strong as the earth!
But in reality, I scream your name, dead and broken.
Come on, screw it all, break down and be...

You'll never know
How it hurts to be alone while the neighbor has loud sex...
She screams, yells, moans, the dude fucks her like it's his last...
I drain this bottle, internally butchered after her.
...and they listen to Ceca and the song about how she habitually sleeps in the same shirt,
Which means it's sweaty as hell and smells like a ram.
But those new kids are bizarre enough to get turned on by that,
So they piss on my loneliness with every breathless burst...

I dream that dream where you put
That beautiful ass. In that awful compartment.
And everything is full of lizards, crawling on you, kissing,
Licking your skin with their cork tongues.
There by the railway, something like a tavern.
There I suck on brandy and look for ways to die.
A Wild West saloon, gamblers and rot,
Hand on the revolver, whores dancing on stage.
I shove boobs in my eyes, looking for someone to fight.
They'll break my arms, I practice drinking with my feet.
But suddenly the sheriff comes, takes my bottle,
Demands documents, he's on my tail.
Haiku: "Touch that bottle, I'll f*ck your mother!"
He removes his star, throws it like a shuriken... oh, mother...
As I gather my guts, he asks for documents again.
I say: "Here, I'll..." – but there's no ID.
No passport. It's all with you. And there's no copy.
Without you, I don't know who I am, without you, I don't know where I am.
I run out... stumble over kidney, guts, bone,
But you're not there. I fucked up. Missed the train.
So I imagine we're not complicated,
That I'm a little less me and you're a little less you...
But then, who would those people be? And where's the anxiety?
You bother me so much, but I need you like that.

Imagine if we weren't complicated.
If I was a little less me. If you were a little less you.
Change yourself so we can meet at a point...
But then, who would those people be?

Tonight, I'm pretending to be a stud.
Oh, how I fuck. I'm strong as the earth!
But in reality, I scream your name, dead and broken.
Come on, screw it all, break down and be...