Текст и перевод песни Oliver Dragojević - Antonio
U
malen
je
živija
mistu
In
a
small
town
he
lived
I
bija
siromaj
je
pravi
And
was
poor
is
right
A
jema
je
dušu
on
čistu
But
he
has
the
spirit
of
the
pure
I
mijardu
sunca
u
glavi
And
a
billion
suns
in
his
head
A
jema
je
dušu
on
čistu
But
he
has
the
spirit
of
the
pure
I
mijardu
sunca
u
glavi
And
a
billion
suns
in
his
head
Brez
šolda
je
doša
iz
svita
With
no
penny
he
came
into
the
world
Vas
tanak
i
upala
lica
All
thin
and
pale
of
face
I
gleda
je
iz
svog
šufita
And
he
looks
from
his
attic
I
živija
sam
i
ka
tica
And
lives
just
like
a
bird
I
gleda
je
iz
svog
šufita
And
he
looks
from
his
attic
I
živija
sam
i
ka
tica
And
lives
just
like
a
bird
Antonio,
Antonio,
Antonio,
Antonio
Antonio,
Antonio,
Antonio,
Antonio
Antonio,
Antonio,
Antonio
Antonio,
Antonio,
Antonio
Antonio,
Antonio
Antonio,
Antonio
Antonio,
Antonio,
Antonio
Antonio,
Antonio,
Antonio
U
malen
je
živija
mistu
In
a
small
town
he
lived
Uz
makinju,
libre
i
biškot
With
a
machine,
a
book,
and
a
biscuit
Napisa
na
jednen
je
listu
He
wrote
a
list
Servantens
Savedra
don
Kihot
Servantens
Savedra
Don
Quixote
Napisa
na
jednen
je
listu
He
wrote
a
list
Servantens
Savedra
don
Kihot
Servantens
Savedra
Don
Quixote
Iz
Čilea
taki
je
doša
From
Chile
such
thing
has
come
Ka
tužni
Hidalgo
brez
mača
Like
a
sad
Hidalgo
without
a
sword
I
sanja
je
kako
bi
proša
And
he
dreams
of
how
he
would
go
Kroz
život
a
da
se
ne
mača
Through
life
but
not
fighting
I
sanja
je
kako
bi
proša
And
he
dreams
of
how
he
would
go
Kroz
život
a
da
se
ne
mača
Through
life
but
not
fighting
Antonio,
Antonio,
Antonio,
Antonio
Antonio,
Antonio,
Antonio,
Antonio
Antonio,
Antonio,
Antonio
Antonio,
Antonio,
Antonio
Antonio,
Antonio
Antonio,
Antonio
Antonio,
Antonio,
Antonio
Antonio,
Antonio,
Antonio
U
malen
je
živija
mistu
In
a
small
town
he
lived
Razumija
nikor
ga
nije
Nobody
understood
him
Jer
malo
je
taki
na
svitu
Because
such
on
the
earth
are
few
Ča
živedu
da
im
se
smije
Who
live
for
people
to
laugh
at
them
A
bija
je
pisničke
duše
But
he
had
a
literary
soul
I
umitnik
čudnega
kova
An
artist
of
a
strange
kind
Svi
okrenu
kako
im
puše
Everyone
else
turned
with
the
wind
On
živi
u
fibri
od
snova
He
lives
in
a
fever
of
dreams
Svi
okrenu
kako
im
puše
Everyone
else
turned
with
the
wind
On
živi
u
fibri
od
snova
He
lives
in
a
fever
of
dreams
Antonio,
Antonio,
Antonio,
Antonio
Antonio,
Antonio,
Antonio,
Antonio
Antonio,
Antonio,
Antonio
Antonio,
Antonio,
Antonio
Antonio,
Antonio
Antonio,
Antonio
Antonio,
Antonio,
Antonio
Antonio,
Antonio,
Antonio
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