Paroles et traduction Đorđe Balašević - Drvena pesma

Drvena pesma

Snio sam noćas nikad prežaljenu stvar
Mog drvenog konjića
Kanap i zvuk točkića
Vrbice zvon
Za mnom verni Sančo moj
U pohodu na Nespokoj

Snio sam još i svoju prvu tamburu
Kako k'o noćna dama
Iz južnog Amsterdama
Iz izloga mene klinca zavodi
Na smrtne grehe navodi

'Di je to drvo raslo, od kog je tesana?
Dal' se pod njime neko nekada ljubio?
Otkud u njemu izvor svih mojih pesama?
Dal' je to znao onaj ko ga je dubio?

'Di je to drvo raslo, vrh kojih bregova?
Dal' nas je ista kiša mlađane zalila?
Ko mu je grane kreso, mati ga njegova?
Čija je ruka lišće s jeseni palila, da znam?

Snio sam, onda, krevet sav u čipkama
Obesnu igru vatre
Sklopljene šalukatre
Na uzglavlju ruža u intarziji
Pod kojom smo se mazili

Snio sam sanduk crni, srebrom okovan
Novembar, izmaglica
I kvartet dragih lica
Maleni čun nasred luke pokisle
Da me u večnost otisne

'Di je to drvo raslo, spram kojih vetrova?
Dal' je pod njime neko za nekim žalio?
Što ga je grom obiš'o, mati ga Petrova?
Ko je u šake pljuno, pa ga strovalio?

Jedina moja mila što si me budila?
Bio sam tako blizu naličja vremena
Taji se jedno drvo u mojim grudima
Gde li će nesto nići iz toga semena, da znam

Wooden Song

I dreamt last night of a thing I could never forget
My wooden horse
The rope and the sound of the wheels
The willow's chime
My faithful Sancho Panza behind me
On our quest for the Unquiet

I also dreamt of my first tambourine
Like a lady of the night
From South Amsterdam
It seduced me, a little boy from the window display
Leading me to deadly sins

Where did that tree grow, from which it was hewn?
Did someone ever kiss under it?
Where does the source of all my songs come from in it?
Did the one who carved it know?

Where did that tree grow, on top of which hills?
Did the same rain drench us, young?
Who pruned its branches, its mother?
Whose hand burned the leaves in autumn, tell me?

I dreamt then, of a bed all in lace
The wild dance of fire
Our hands clasped
A rose on the headboard in marquetry
Under which we used to cuddle

I dreamt of a black chest, silver-bound
November, fog
And a quartet of dear faces
A small boat in the middle of a rainy harbor
To carry me to eternity

Where did that tree grow, facing which winds?
Did anyone grieve for someone under it?
Why did lightning pass it by, its mother, Petrova?
Who spat in their hands, and then felled it?

My only darling, you woke me up?
I was so close to the face of time
That tree hides in my chest
Will anything grow from that seed, tell me