Paroles et traduction Marcelo - Čep

Čep

Čep. Ja sam čovek čep. I nisam superheroj, nego žrtva.
Kada otvaranje duše ima zvuk otvaranja flaše,
Zna se: razgovor će tu malo šta da spase.
A i šta da joj kažeš? Reči iščašene od čaše
što očas na očaj zabazde, slome se i zgade.
A mali je sad prvi razred, sluša, ćuti, trpi, šta će.
Svađe i čarke mame i tate, i uvek ta reč: pare, pare.
I nisu izvor sreće, tako učio si ga, ćale,
Ali tamo gde ih nema, nesreća još kako naraste.
Ti bi zagulio članke, ali ti nisi član stranke,
A sad ti vezu traže čak i da bi radio kao šanker.
Samo stid, beda, diploma bleda, kraj s krajem,
Tome kraja nema. I ajde ti i žena... kako mali da nema?
I drobi ga taj tajac kad zajmi da vrati zajam,
Njeno ćutanje mu gora kazna no kad preti gazda stana.
Raspori se, kožo, da vrisak izađe naglas,
Evo opet - kafana, opet u ruci je čaša.
Ali tada -- crni čovek... tople oči, lepa reč,
Kaže: "Vidi, nije kraj. Imam plan, imam sve.
Azerbejdžan. Građevina. Malo mučno, ali keš.
Evo ruke, samo reci, da li hoćeš, da li smeš?"

I kao kada izvučeš čep, iscure očaj i bes,
Po stolu prosu se jed i poniženje i žeđ
Da učini se baš sve, samo kad bi znao šta,
čoveče dobri, nebo mi te šalje, ti si spas!
Jer više nemam kud, a ako padnem ja,
šta bi tek oni tad? To samo bog zna...
Učinio bih baš sve, samo da imam šta,
Druže moj, nebo te šalje za spas.

Baku, mnogo ljudi što spaja ih isti jad,
Ista glad, iste oči, ista volja da spasu stvar.
Ali ovaj obećani grad bar miriše im na nadu:
Sagradiće život dok budu gradili tu zgradu.
Doduše, njih dvadeset u sobi, bez struje...
Ali to je valjda privremeno, sve će to bolje da bude.
I malo je čudno to što svaki pasoš im je uzet,
No dobro, birokratija, radne vize, šta je -- tu je.
Dani teku. Evo već jedan mesec. Samo jedan toalet,
A njih je devedeset. Sendvič u crnoj kesi, onoj kao za smeće,
Struje i dalje nema, samo ovo tanko ćebe.
Malo il nimalo sna, a radnih sati petnaest.
Psuju ih i grde, jednog čak i tukli u besvest.
Nemaš ni dana da daneš, jer kazne te čim staneš,
A one dobre plate samo kasne, i kasne, i kasne...

I sad znam, sve laž je! Slagao si me, brate!
Došao da ih spasem, sad oni meni šalju pare!
Bez pasoša, bez hrane, bez dostojanstva i nade
Da odavde uopšte živu glavu čitavu ikad spasem.
I opet nemam kud, a ako padnem ja,
šta bi tek oni tad? To samo bog zna...
Ćuti i trpi sad sve, sve poniženje i jad...
Šta si mi to uradio? Mislio sam da si spas...

Znao je da sad je već pitanje žive glave
Kad kolegu uze infarkt, jer mu ne dadoše da s radom stane.
Skupljaše pare da nekako telo kući vrate,
Strepeći da ni sami drukčije neće otići odatle.
Jer svako ko se bunio, osim novčane kazne,
Beše i do krvi mlaćen, s pretnjom da je zadnje.
Policija ne haje, ti si roba, robe, neka te.
Ko zna ko je sve umešan, tek užas ne prestaje.
Ali onda to, odjednom, puče sve:
Tokom noći, neki čovek reče: "Krećite.
Samo ovde potpiši da je dobro sve,
Da ti je plaćen keš i da sve beše fer."
I tako to sa svakim pojedinačno,
Onda mu baci kao psu neku siću na pod.
Potom sve njih u kombi, ko da je tor.
Аerodrom, i to beše to.

To? Zar je to sve? Gde je kraj, šta je posle?
E pa vidiš, tu je problem: sad i priča ima svoj čep.
Ti ljudi, sad su ovde. Oni ćute, jer se boje.
A tamo negde, crni čovek u ovaj košmar vodi nove.

Ali onda kad izvuče se čep, cureće očaj i bes,
Po stolu prosuće jed i poniženje i žeđ
Da učini se baš sve, samo kad bi smeo šta,
Samo kad bi neko stvarno začuo taj njihov glas.
Čuo bi očaj i bes, jed, poniženje i žeđ
Da učini se baš sve, samo kad bi smeo šta...
Samo kad bi smeo da... samo kad bi smeo da...
Čep.

Cork

Cork. I'm a human cork. Not a superhero, but a victim.
When opening my soul sounds like uncorking a bottle,
It's clear: conversation won't save much here.
And what can you even say? Words drained from a glass
That quickly turn to despair, break, and disgust.
And our little one is in first grade now, listens, stays quiet, endures, what else can he do?
Mom and Dad's arguments and fights, and always that word: money, money.
It's not the source of happiness, that's what you taught him, Dad,
But where it's absent, unhappiness grows even stronger.
You'd work your fingers to the bone, but you're not a party member,
And now they even demand connections just to work as a bartender.
Just shame, poverty, a pale diploma, barely making ends meet,
There's no end to it. And how can our child not have... come on, you and your wife...
And the silence crushes him when we borrow to repay a loan,
Her silence is a worse punishment than when the landlord threatens.
Tear open, skin, so the scream can come out loud,
Here we go again - the bar, a glass in hand again.
But then -- a dark man... warm eyes, kind words,
He says: "Look, it's not the end. I have a plan, I have everything.
Azerbaijan. Construction. A bit tough, but cash.
Here's my hand, just say it, do you want it, do you dare?"

And like pulling out a cork, despair and anger pour out,
Spilled on the table are poison and humiliation and thirst
To do anything, if only I knew what,
Good man, heaven sends you, you are salvation!
Because I have nowhere else to go, and if I fall,
What would happen to them then? Only God knows...
I would do anything, if only I had something,
My friend, heaven sends you as my salvation.

Baku, many people united by the same misery,
The same hunger, the same eyes, the same will to save things.
But this promised city at least smells like hope to them:
They'll build their lives while building that building.
Although, twenty of them in a room, without electricity...
But that's probably temporary, everything will get better.
And it's a bit strange that every passport was taken,
But well, bureaucracy, work visas, it is what it is.
Days go by. It's been a month already. Only one toilet,
And there are ninety of them. A sandwich in a black bag, like a trash bag,
Still no electricity, just this thin blanket.
Little or no sleep, and fifteen working hours.
They curse and scold them, even beat one unconscious.
You don't even have a day to rest, because they fine you as soon as you stop,
And those good wages just keep getting delayed, and delayed, and delayed...

And now I know, it's all a lie! You lied to me, brother!
I came to save them, now they're sending me money!
Without passports, without food, without dignity and hope
To ever get out of here alive with my head still on my shoulders.
And again I have nowhere to go, and if I fall,
What would happen to them then? Only God knows...
Just be quiet and endure everything now, all the humiliation and misery...
What have you done to me? I thought you were salvation...

He knew it was a matter of life and death now
When a colleague had a heart attack because they wouldn't let him stop working.
They were collecting money to somehow send his body home,
Fearing they wouldn't leave any other way themselves.
Because anyone who complained, besides a fine,
Was also beaten to a pulp, with the threat that it was their last.
The police don't care, you're just goods, goods, let them be.
Who knows who's all involved, the horror just doesn't stop.
But then, suddenly, everything burst:
During the night, some man said: "Let's go.
Just sign here that everything is fine,
That you were paid in cash and that everything was fair."
And so it was with each one individually,
Then he threw some change on the floor like they were dogs.
Then all of them into a van, like cargo.
The airport, and that was it.

That? Is that all? Where's the end, what's next?
Well, you see, that's the problem: now the story has its own cork.
These people are here now. They're silent because they're afraid.
And somewhere out there, the dark man is leading new ones into this nightmare.

But then when the cork is pulled, despair and anger will flow,
Poison and humiliation and thirst will spill on the table
To do anything, if only they dared to do something,
If only someone would truly hear their voice.
They would hear despair and anger, poison, humiliation and thirst
To do anything, if only they dared to do something...
If only they dared to... if only they dared to...
Cork.