Paroles et traduction Đorđe Balašević - Eleonora (Na Bogojavljensku noc - Live)

Eleonora (Na Bogojavljensku noc - Live)

Na bogojavljensku noæ...
Peku se kesteni, lome se pogaèe, a venac smokava i praporci se pokaèe
U prednjoj sobi moga baæe... To je veæ navike moæ
Bez slova poziva, drutvo se sastalo pod istom ikonom,
Za crnim vapskim astalom to pamti svadbe i daæe
Redak sam gost u starom kraju...
Al' znam ta misle, i u snu
I oni mene kanda znaju... Jer èak ni pripiti ni da mi pomenu nju
Èudna je zverèica strast...
Od one ljubavi, zbog glupe svaðice...
U buri æutanja potonule su laðice
I minus na kraju salda?
Dal' grom odabira hrast?
Ili se to pak hrsat munjama nametne?
Za to ba nemam reèi bog zna kako pametne...
To je ta sudbina, valjda?
Bila je moja zlatna ansa... A tek sam naèeo svoj krug
Moj mali Sanèo Pansa... Moja ljubavnica...
Saborac... I moj najbolji drug...
Oni ne prièaju o njoj... A ja se ne raspitkivam
Ukrstim politru i noæ... I tu i tamo na taj krst se prikivam
Veæ me i Dunav pretièe... Moja me senka spotièe
Al' nita mi se ne tièe... I malo ta me pomera i dotièe
Sem, moda, nje?
Kad ðavo precepi pil...
Sve krene naopaka, svale se vanglice, zadrema kum,
I neto nisu ove "london tanglice"
Ko kadgod, u doba slavna?
Pogreno uklopljen stil...
Kinesko posuðe, salvete heklane,
Model iz izloga a cipele od preklane
No, rizling sve to poravna
Veæ me Dunav pretièe... Veæ me senka spotièe
Nita me se ne tièe... Nita me se ne dotièe

Eleonora (On Epiphany Night - Live)

On Epiphany night...
Chestnuts are roasting, bread loaves are broken, a wreath of figs and banners will be revealed
In the front room of my grandfather... This is already my habit
Without a word of invitation, the company has gathered under the same icon,
At the black lime table that remembers weddings and funerals
I am a rare guest in my old neighborhood...
But I know those thoughts, in my sleep
And it seems like they know me too... Because if they toasted neither to me, nor mentioned her
Passion is a strange little beast...
From that love, because of a silly quarrel...
In silence, the rowing boats sank
And a minus at the end of the balance?
Does the lightning choose an oak?
Or does the oak force itself on the lightning?
For that, I have no answer, God knows how smart, clever I am...
This is fate, I guess?
She was my golden anchor... And I have just found my path
My little Sancho Panza... My lover...
Fellow comrade... And my best friend...
They do not talk about her... And I do not ask
I cross a half-liter glass and a knife... And there and then I nail myself to that cross
The Danube threatens me already... My shadow mocks me
But nothing touches me... I hardly notice it and it barely reaches me
Except her, isn't that right?
When the devil poured the beer...
Everything went wrong, the angels got drunk, the best man fell asleep,
And these "London tangos"
Are not like they were in the glorious days?
An incorrectly fitted style...
Chinese dishware, crocheted napkins,
Fashion model from a shop window, but shoes from last season
Anyway, the Riesling evens it all out
The Danube threatens me already... My shadow mocks me
Nothing touches me... Nothing reaches me