Текст и перевод песни Tereza Kesovija - Čakule O Siromajima

Čakule O Siromajima

To slika je moga škoja
Ba koluri, ba okvira
Svuda samo sivo i svuda
Samo modro. A kućica
Jedna pala je uz more
Tu živimo nas dvoje sa
Sedmero dice i tri koze

Vec se cilin škojen prica
Da nimamo bome ništa. Svi
Nas zovu "siromaji"! Ca
Imaju? Ošta zive?
Dvi, tri loze, malo vina
Cvit masline, zero uja
Dvi, tri loze, bokun sira
To nama je drago blago
Ca imamo!
O, more, da njezno miluješ
Zal, ti beskrajno si dobro
Naše! I radost nam svaki
Tvoj nosi val kad u zoru
Se vrate brodice!
Kazu da smo siromaji, al
Cakule to su samo. Naše
Ruke vole radit i živimo
Zato sritno!

To slika je moga škoja
Uvik srcu puno draga
Ode ja san rojen a ode
Cu i umrit. I ne more
Ništa lipše bit na svitu
Od ovog malog škoja ca
Bidan se naša na srid mora

Vec se cilin škojen prica
Da nimamo bome ništa. Svi
Nas zovu "siromaji"! Ca
Imaju? Ošta zive?
Dvi, tri loze, malo vina
Cvit masline, zero uja
Dvi, tri loze, bokun sira
To nama je drago blago
Ca imamo!
O, more, da njezno miluješ
Zal, ti beskrajno si dobro
Naše! I radost nam svaki
Tvoj nosi val kad u zoru
Se vrate brodice!
Kazu da smo siromaji, al
Cakule to su samo. Naše
Ruke vole radit i zivimo
Zato sritno!

Charming Ragged People

A picture of my little island
Without any paintings, or frames
Only gray, and only
Dark blue. And a house
Has fallen next to the sea
Where two of us and
Seven children and three goats live

Most people in the city talk
About how we have nothing. They
Call us "poor people"! What
Do they have? What do they live on?
Two, three vines, a little wine
Olive flowers, no olive oil
Two, three vines, a small cheese
That's our precious treasure
That we have!
Oh, the sea, that it gently caresses
Sorrow, you are infinitely benevolent
Ours! And happiness, every
Your wave carries when at dawn
The little boats return!
They say we are poor people, but
These are just rags. Our
Hands love to work, that's why we live
Happily!

A picture of my little island
Always dear to my heart
Here I was born, and here
I will also die. And nothing
Could be more beautiful in the world
Than this little island which
Stands poor on the open sea

Most people in the city talk
About how we have nothing. They
Call us "poor people"! What
Do they have? What do they live on?
Two, three vines, a little wine
Olive flowers, no olive oil
Two, three vines, a small cheese
That's our precious treasure
That we have!
Oh, the sea, that it gently caresses
Sorrow, you are infinitely benevolent
Ours! And happiness, every
Your wave carries when at dawn
The little boats return!
They say we are poor people, but
These are just rags. Our
Hands love to work, that's why we live
Happily!