Текст и перевод песни Zabranjeno Pusenje - Ibro Dirka

Ibro Dirka

Kunem vam se rahmetom mi dedinim
Iako se u tu svirku ne razumijem baš
Da niko nikad nije znao harmoniku svirat
Kao mali Ibro, Ibro Dirka naš

Kada počme dernek i kad on zasvira
Ne bi stigo reći ni bismila
Već bi lupo glavom i lomio bi čaše
Već bi te Ibro baćio u sevdah

Al' ubrzo za Ibru čuše ljudi sa estrade
I počeše njuškati po našoj mahali
Svaki Ibri piće plaća
Svaki deset prsta Ibrinih hvali

Ibro poče pričati o parama, o slavi
Mi ga odgovarasmo, Ibro ne budali
Ti si nešto drugo, ti 'armonikom liječiš bol
Na estradi sve je lažno, na estradi sve je fol

Samo da ti kažem nešto za Ibru
Dođe Mercedes po njega i ode on, ode
Ode u 'armoničare i posta popularan
Eno ga bolan, gledo sam sliku, s oba Halida se sliko
Ma čuo sam, ba
S Brenom bio (jel, života ti?) Jes, majke mi
Čovječe, on je vuko curu, nosila bedž da joj se zna prednja strana
I evo sad hoda ni s onom ni s onom, sve noge do kraja
Da ti kažem. Gledam ja one slike, na onome-

Ozrenka, daj nam dvije pive i reci bogati muzici malo tiše
Nije mi, boga mi, nekako zadovoljan
Znam ja, duševan čovjek, ne da on da ga se daraći
Da ga daraću oni, oni snimatelji
Oguliše ga, oguliše ga onu (pođi od sebe, bil ti, bil ti dopustio?)
Ali nije ni to. Ne daju mu bolan da sevdah svira
Misliš? (Sigurno)
Ovo kriza, jel'
Ja, bolan, raja traže veselo. Tko će slušat tuđu muku?

Al' jednog jutra uđe Ibro u mahalu sam
Isti Gary Cooper, sve je ličilo na san
Na licu mu više ne bi sjene koju tuga pravi
Mahalu, sevdah, Ibro nije mogo da zaboravi

Ibro nije htio para, Ibro će vazda bit fukara
Neki odma počeše da blate Ibrin lik
Al' samo prava raja je znala u čemu je trik

Nije Ibro, jarane, naš fukara
Ibro ti je de facto umjetnik, shvaćaš?

Ibro Dirka

I swear to you by my grandfather's soul, my dear
Even though I don't understand this music much
That no one has ever known how to play the accordion
Like little Ibro, our Ibro Dirka

When the party starts and when he starts playing
You wouldn't have time to say "Bismillah" (In the name of Allah)
You would already be banging your head and breaking glasses
Ibro would already have you lost in love

But soon people on the music scene heard about Ibro
And they started sniffing around our neighborhood
Everyone was buying drinks for Ibro
Everyone was praising Ibro's ten fingers

Ibro started talking about money, about fame
We tried to talk him out of it, "Ibro, don't be a fool"
You're something else, you heal pain with your accordion
Everything on the music scene is fake, everything on the music scene is nonsense

Just to tell you something about Ibro
A Mercedes came for him and he left, he left
He went to the accordion players and became popular
Oh look, I saw a picture of him, he took a picture with both Halids
But I heard, my dear
He was with Brenna (Is this true?) Yes, by my mother
Man, he was dating a chick, she wore a badge so you could tell which side was her front
And now he's walking around with neither one, he's dead tired
Let me tell you. I look at those pictures, on that-

Ozrenka, give us two beers and tell the rich musicians to be a little quieter
I'm not, by God, somehow satisfied
I know, he's a soulful man, he doesn't let them bother him
Let them bother him, those snoopers
They ripped him off, they ripped him off (step away from me, you, would you let them?)
But that's not it. They won't let him play sevdah
You think? (Definitely)
This is a crisis, right?
I, oh dear, the people are asking for something happy. Who wants to listen to someone else's pain?

But one morning Ibro came into the neighborhood alone
Like Gary Cooper, everything seemed like a dream
There were no more shadows of sadness on his face
The neighborhood, sevdah, Ibro couldn't forget

Ibro didn't want money, Ibro will always be a poor man
Some immediately started to badmouth Ibro
But only the real people knew what the trick was

Ibro is not, my friend, our poor man
Ibro is de facto an artist, do you understand?