Текст и перевод песни Zabranjeno Pusenje - Ibro Dirka (Live)

Ibro Dirka (Live)

Kunem vam se, rahmetom mi dedinim,
Iako se u tu svirku ne razumjem bas,
Da nikad niko nije znao ′armoniku svirat,
Kao mali Ibro, Ibro Dirka nas.
Kada pocme dernek I kad on zasvira,
Ne bi stigo reci ni bismillah,
Vec bi lupo glavom I lomio bi case,
Vec bi te Ibro bacio u sevdah.
Al ubrzo za Ibru cuse ljudi sa estrade,
I pocese njuskati po nasoj mahali,
Svaki Ibri pice placa,
Svaki deset prsta Ibrinih hvali.
Ibro poce pricati o parama o slavi,
Mi ga odgovarasmo Ibro ne budali,
Ti si nesto drugo, ti armonikom ljecis bol
Na estradi sve je lazno, na estradi sve je fol.
Samo da ti kazem nesto za Ibru - Ja,
Ja - Dode Mercedes po njega I on ode.-Ja, ja.
Ode u armonicare I posta popularan.
- Eno ga bolan, gled'o sam sliku, sa Brenom bio
S oba Halida se sliko. Jel zivota ti. Jes majke mi.
Covjece, on je vuko curulu nosila bed da joj se zna prednja strana.
I sad evo hoda I s ovom I s onom - Ozrenka,
Daj nam bogati dvije pive I reci muzici
Malo tise - I nije mi nekako zadovoljan
Znam ja, dusevan covjek, ne da on da ga se daraci,
Da ga daracu oni snimatelji - Ogulise ga -Cekaj Bil ti to dopustio?
Stani podji od sebe.
Ali nije ni to. Ne daju mu bolan da sevdah svira. Raja trazi
Veselo. Tko ce slusat tudju muku.
Al jednog jutra udje Ibro u mahalu sam,
Isti Gari Kuper, sve je licilo na san.
Na licu mu vise ne bi sjene koju tuga pravi,
Mahalu, sevdah, Ibro nije mogo da zaboravi.
Ibro nije htio para,
Ibro ce vazda bit fukara.
I odma neki pocese da blate Ibrin lik,
Al samo prava raja je znala u cemu je trik,
Nije ti Ibro jarane nas fukara, Ibro ti je defakto umjetnik.
Shvacas?

Ibro Dirka (Live)

I swear to you, by the mercy of my grandfather,
Although I don't understand a thing about music,
I swear to you that nobody has ever played the accordion like,
Little Ibro, Ibro Dirka, our hero.
When the party starts, and he starts to play,
You won't even have time to say "Bismillah,"
Before you start banging your head and breaking things,
Before Ibro makes you fall head over heels.
But soon, people from the stage heard about Ibro,
And they started sniffing around our neighborhood,
Every Ibro drinks for free,
Every Ibro's ten fingers are praised.
Ibro started bragging about fame and fortune,
And we said, "Ibro, don't be a fool,
You're something else, you're a doctor of souls with your accordion."
Everything on stage is fake, everything on stage is a lie.
Just to tell you something about Ibro - My,
A Mercedes came for him, and he left - My, my.
He went off to play the accordion, and became famous.
- Look at him, I saw a picture of him with Brenna,
He took pictures with both Halids. I swear. By my mother.
Man, he's making a fortune, he's got front-row tickets to everything.
Now here he is, walking around with this one and that one - Ozrenka,
Get us two beers and tell the band
To slow it down a little - And he's not satisfied with anything
I know he's a man of soul, he doesn't let them give him gifts,
Let those cameramen give him gifts - They'll milk him dry - Wait, would you let them?
Get up and go away.
But that's not it either. They won't let him play sad songs. The crowd wants
Happy songs. Who wants to hear about someone else's troubles?
But one morning Ibro came into the neighborhood alone,
Like Gary Cooper, it was like a dream.
His face no longer showed the shadows of sadness,
He couldn't forget our neighborhood, or the songs of love.
Ibro didn't want money,
Ibro will always be poor.
And some people started to trash Ibro's name,
But only us, the real people, knew the truth,
Ibro's not poor, buddy, Ibro's an artist, de facto.
Do you understand?