Текст и перевод песни Djordje Balasevic - Prica o Vasi Ladackom (Live) - Live

Prica o Vasi Ladackom (Live) - Live

Znate l' priču o Vasi Ladačkom?
I ja sam je tek onomad čuo.
Jednom devet dana nije
Izlazio iz birtije,
Kažu da je bio čudna sorta.
Otac mu je bio sitni paor,
'Ranio je sedam gladnih usti.
A mati mu je bila plava, tiha, nežna, jektičava.
Umrla je s trideset i nešto.
Imali su par jutara zemlje
I malu kuću na kraju sokaka.
Na astalu navek hleba,
Taman tol'ko kol'ko treba,
Al' je Vasa 'teo mnogo više.
Želeo je konje vrane
Po livadi razigrane,
Sat sa zlatnim lancem i salaše.
Želeo je njive plodne,
Vinograde blagorodne,
U karuce pregnute čilaše,
Ali nije mog'o da ih ima.
Voleo je lepu, al' sirotu.
I uz'o bi je samo da je znao:
Voleš jednom u životu,
Sad bogatu il' sirotu,
To ne bira pamet nego srce.
I sve se nad'o da će ljubav proći.
Zanavek je otiš'o iz sela
I nikad nije pis'o nikom.
Venč'o se sa mirazdžikom,
Jedinicom ćerkom nekog gazde.
Dobio je konje vrane
Po livadi razigrane,
Sat sa zlatnim lancem i salaše.
Dobio je njive plodne,
Vinograde blagorodne,
U karuce pregnute čilaše.
I sve je im'o, ništa im'o nije.
Propio se, nije prošlo mnogo,
Dušu svoju Đavolu je prod'o.
Znali su ga svi birtaši,
Tražio je spas u čaši,
Ali nije mog'o da ga nađe.
Mlad je kažu bio i kad je umro.
Sred birtije od srčane kapi.
Klonula mu samo glava,
K'o da drema, k'o da spava,
I još pamte šta je zadnje rek'o:
Džaba bilo konja vranih
Po livadi razigranih,
Džaba bilo sata i salaša.
Džaba bilo njiva plodnih,
Vinograda blagorodnih,
Džaba bilo u karuca čilaša.
Kada nisam s onom koju volem...
...kada nisam s onom koju volem.
Eh, kad nisam s onom koju volem!
Kada nisam s onom koju volem.
Znate'l priču o Vasi Ladačkom,
I ja sam je tek onomad čuo.
Čak i oni slični njemu,
Kada razmisle o svemu,
Kažu da je bio čudna sorta.

The Tale of Vasa Ladački (Live) - Live

Do you know the tale of Vasa Ladački?
I heard it only recently.
Once for nine days he didn't
Leave the tavern,
They say he was an odd sort.
His father was a small-time farmer
Feeding seven hungry mouths.
His mother was fair, quiet, tender, consumptive.
She died at thirty-something.
They had a few acres of land
And a small house at the end of the alley.
There was always bread on the table
Just enough
But Vasa wanted much more.
He wanted black horses
Galloping through the meadows
A watch with a gold chain and farmsteads.
He wanted fertile fields
Noble vineyards
And spirited horses harnessed to carriages
But he couldn't have them.
He loved a beautiful, but poor woman.
And he would have taken her only if he had known:
You love once in a lifetime,
Whether she's rich or poor,
The heart, not the mind, chooses.
And he kept hoping that the love would pass.
He left the village forever
And never wrote to anyone.
He married a rich girl
The only daughter of some wealthy farmer.
He got black horses
Galloping through the meadows
A watch with a gold chain and farmsteads.
He got fertile fields
Noble vineyards
And spirited horses harnessed to carriages.
And he had everything and had nothing.
He drank himself into oblivion, it didn't take long,
He sold his soul to the Devil.
All the tavern keepers knew him
He sought salvation in a glass
But he couldn't find it.
They say he was still young when he died.
In the middle of a tavern from a heart attack.
His head just fell
As if he was dozing, as if he was sleeping
And they still remember what he said last:
In vain the black horses
Galloping through the meadows
In vain the watch and the farmsteads.
In vain the fertile fields
The noble vineyards
In vain the spirited horses harnessed to carriages.
When I'm not with the one I love...
...when I'm not with the one I love.
Oh, when I'm not with the one I love!
When I'm not with the one I love.
Do you know the tale of Vasa Ladački,
I heard it only recently.
Even those who are like him
When they think about it all
Say he was an odd sort.