Текст и перевод песни Đorđe Balašević - Miholjsko leto '95

Miholjsko leto '95

Do pola jedan je bila na času klavira
Onda korakom merila grad
I usput gledala izloge
Pardon, svoj odraz u njima
U kosi još, poput venca, ona molska kadenca
Mala vračka da upravo tad
Uz Caffe Kibic polagano nadođe on
Kao plima

Tajne su tu zato da ih neko nasluti
Postoji reč koja vredi tek kad se odćuti
Bogu je kanuo čaj, svud je prsnuo sjaj
Jedan platan će ostati zlatan
Ona kroz smeh čvrsto svoju kajdanku stišće
Ne drhti on, to je samo to uvelo lišće
Blaženo miholjsko leto
Jedno i sveto za njih

A on je nosio naglas svojih Skoro Osamnaest
Sve češće mu govore "Vi"
Begeš u grudima udara
Bije u bronzane žice
U džepu sretni staklenac, k'o, ono, novčić i zdenac
Mala vračka da nestanu svi
A ona bane ko lupež, i prospe mu kosu u lice

Tajne su tu zato da ih neko nasluti
Postoji reč koja vredi tek kad se odćuti
Bogu je kanuo čaj, svud je prsnuo sjaj
Jedan platan će ostati zlatan
Ona kroz smeh čvrsto svoju kajdanku stišće
Ne drhti on, to je samo to uvelo lišće
Blaženo miholjsko leto
Jedno i sveto za njih

Kao osrednji klošar, malo prosed i prostar
Na uglu sam zastao sam
Ne tako dobar oktobar
I misli sve u ruskom štimu
A onda shvatih, na prepad, da te volim, k'o nekad
Vreme samo raspiruje plam
U meni miholjsko leto, to prkosno sunce pred zimu
Ma, daj

Saint Michael's Summer '95

You were at the piano lesson until half past one
Then you measured the city with your steps
And looked at the shop windows along the way
Excuse me, your reflection in them
In your hair, still like a wreath, that minor cadence
Little witch, just then
He came up slowly by Caffe Kibic
Like a tide

Secrets are here for someone to sense
There is a word that is worth only when it is kept silent
God spilled his tea, everywhere the shine burst
One plane tree will remain golden
You squeeze your necklace tightly through laughter
He doesn't tremble, it's just that withered foliage
Blessed Saint Michael's summer
One and holy for you

And he carried the emphasis of his Almost Eighteen
They tell him "You" more and more often
Escape beats in his chest
Beats in bronze strings
A lucky glass in his pocket, like, you know, a coin and a well
Little witch, for everyone to disappear
And you appear like a thief, and pour your hair over his face

Secrets are here for someone to sense
There is a word that is worth only when it is kept silent
God spilled his tea, everywhere the shine burst
One plane tree will remain golden
You squeeze your necklace tightly through laughter
He doesn't tremble, it's just that withered foliage
Blessed Saint Michael's summer
One and holy for you

Like a mediocre tramp, a little gray and old
I stopped at the corner, alone
Not such a good October
And thoughts all in Russian tune
And then I realized, suddenly, that I love you, like I used to
Time only fans the flame
In me, Saint Michael's summer, that defiant sun before winter
Oh, come on