Текст и перевод песни Đorđe Balašević - Rapsodija o Katrin

Rapsodija o Katrin

Ekspresni vlak za Pariz:
Pula, Trst, Milano, Torino, Grenobl, Pariz,
Polazi sa četrnaestog koloseka, drugi peron lijevo...
Ponavljam: Ekspresni vlak za Pariz:
Pula, Trst, Milano, Torino, Grenobl,
Ta napokon Pariz,
Polazi sa četrnaestog koloseka...
Ecris, ma cherie. Ne oublies pas. Adieu...
Na stanici u Puli,
Pod vrelim suncem leta,
Sam čekao autobus i svirao gitaru...
Tad sela je kraj mene...
I pitala da l' smeta?
I znam li dobar hotel u Rovinju il' Vrsaru?
I reče da je stigla tog jutra iz Dižona.
Odvedoh je u mali restoran s dobrom klopom.
Uz sendviče i kafu, onako, iz fazona,
Predložih joj da dalje krene sa mnom auto-stopom...
Oprosti mi, Katrin, možda nisam bio fin,
Mada si mi bila draga.
Oprosti mi, Katrin... Sve je sada samo dim...
Našoj ljubavi – ni traga...
A sutra sve je bilo ko da se dugo znamo...
Na plaži joj, na poklon, izronih morskog puža...
I nije rekla ništa (nasmešila se samo).
I pružila mi ruke... Kao sebe da mi pruža...
Oprosti mi, Katrin, možda nisam bio fin,
Mada si mi bila draga.
Oprosti mi, Katrin... Sve je sada samo dim...
Našoj ljubavi – ni traga...
A za sve je kriv moj ortak Zole,
To moram da kažem.
Tog dana doneo je žurnal sa čudesnim pejsažem...
– Ajmo mi u Istru – reko je – tamo žive vile...
– Ma, daleko je... Al' kad već žive,
Same su krive...
I, eto nas.
U zemlju vila kreneš vozom, a stigneš vlakom...
Pred jutro omami te vazduh smućkan sa zrakom.
Pod Ćićarijom ugledaš Buzet i tom si slikom prosto obuzet...
Al' tad maestral pirne dolinom reke Mirne.
Negde od Tarske vale, od obale...
Niz prugu grenadiri borovi, da l' su kažuni ili dvorovi?
Kao da stiže glavom car u Kanfanar.
"Istra je naša!"
Pisalo je na kamenom zidu...
"L'Istria è nostra!"
Važi, sve ćemo to imati u vidu...
Pa, da...
Nas tri drugara, lovci na šanse...
Tri musketara iz ravne provanse...
"Leto je loto..." – to je naš moto, s cveta na cvet...
Istra je naša! L'Istria è nostra!
Važi, al' momentalno naša je i vozdra!
Tu je stvar čista:
Čija je Istra, njegov je svet.
"Istra je naša!"
Pisalo je na kamenom zidu...
"L'Istria è nostra!"
Dobro, sve ćemo to imati u vidu...
Majica, farke i espadrile...
Paradna uniforma naše eskadrile.
Palac na cesti...
Gde li ću sresti onu iz sna?
I put do raja, svejedno umori...
I brzi voz na kraju uspori...
I malo zatim sreo sam Katrin (što se već zna).
Taj dan je bio dosta duži od drugih dana...
Plava laguna, Via Flengi i Funtana...
I tad stao nam je tip sa kombijem,
Pa do Umaga s tim hipi zombijem...
Gde je sa sestrom htela do hotela,
Pa laku noć.
Te letnje ljubavi mu dođu suvenir na kraju,
Ko trag bikinija na koži otprilike traju...
Uz onaj feral u Savudriji osvanuo sam nešto mudriji...
Ma, super mi je sve to, po curica za leto...
Vreme na revers uzeto.
Al' moram ovde onu dovesti
Uz koju ću sva leta provesti,
Neka u dobru,
Neka u zlu ali uz nju.
A što se tiče Katrin, samo bi kučkin sin nešto rekao loše.
Svoj je vrtela film, što je OK sasvim,
Svako bira svoj lik.
Mali prepadnut stvor, mali spetljani čvor,
Vrapčić košavom nošen...
I toliko od nas...
Suza pecne na čas al' ne ostavi plik.
I mahala mi dugo sa prozora vagona...
I pisala mi posle da pamti sunce juga...
I zvala me, u jesen, da dođem do Dižona...
Al'... Tamo ne bi bila ista... Nego neka druga...
Oprosti mi, Katrin, možda nisam bio fin,
Mada si mi bila draga.
Oprosti mi, Katrin... Sve je sada samo dim...
Našoj ljubavi – ni traga...
Ni traga.

Rhapsody About Katrin

Express train to Paris:
Pula, Trieste, Milan, Turin, Grenoble, Paris,
Departing from platform 14, second platform on the left...
I repeat: Express train to Paris:
Pula, Trieste, Milan, Turin, Grenoble,
And finally, Paris,
Departing from platform 14...
Ecris, ma cherie. Ne oublies pas. Adieu...
At the station in Pula,
Under the hot summer sun,
I waited for the bus alone, playing my guitar...
That's when you sat next to me...
And asked if it bothered me?
And if I knew a good hotel in Rovinj or Vrsar?
And you said you had arrived that morning from Dijon.
I took you to a small restaurant with good food.
Over sandwiches and coffee, just for fun,
I suggested you continue your journey with me hitchhiking...
Forgive me, Katrin, maybe I wasn't kind,
Even though I liked you.
Forgive me, Katrin... Everything is just smoke now...
Of our love – not a trace...
And the next day, it was as if we'd known each other for a long time...
On the beach, as a gift, I brought you a sea snail...
And you didn't say anything (just smiled).
And you offered me your hands... As if you were offering me yourself...
Forgive me, Katrin, maybe I wasn't kind,
Even though I liked you.
Forgive me, Katrin... Everything is just smoke now...
Of our love – not a trace...
And it's all my buddy Zole's fault,
I have to say.
That day he brought a magazine with a wonderful landscape...
– Let's go to Istria – he said – fairies live there...
– Well, it's far... But since they live there,
They're to blame...
And, here we are.
You head to the land of fairies by train, but arrive by locomotive...
In the morning, the air mixed with the breeze intoxicates you.
Under Ćićarija, you see Buzet and you're simply captivated by that image...
But then the maestral wind blows through the valley of the Mirna river.
Somewhere from Tarska vale, from the coast...
Pine grenadiers along the railway, are they kažuni or palaces?
As if the king is arriving headfirst in Kanfanar.
"Istria is ours!"
It was written on the stone wall...
"L'Istria è nostra!"
Okay, we'll keep that in mind...
So, yeah...
Three of us friends, hunters of chances...
Three musketeers from the flat provence...
"Summer is a lottery..." – that's our motto, from flower to flower...
Istria is ours! L'Istria è nostra!
Okay, but for now, cheers to us!
The matter is clear:
Whoever owns Istria, owns the world.
"Istria is ours!"
It was written on the stone wall...
"L'Istria è nostra!"
Alright, we'll keep that in mind...
T-shirt, jeans and espadrilles...
The dress uniform of our squadron.
Thumb on the road...
Where will I meet the one from my dreams?
And the road to paradise, it still makes you tired...
And the fast train eventually slows down...
And shortly after, I met Katrin (as you already know).
That day was much longer than other days...
Blue lagoon, Via Flengi and Funtana...
And then a guy with a van stopped for us,
So to Umag with that hippie zombie...
Where she wanted to go to the hotel with her sister,
So good night.
Those summer loves end up being souvenirs,
They last about as long as a bikini tan on your skin...
With that lighthouse in Savudrija, I woke up a little wiser...
Well, it's all great, a girl for each summer...
Time borrowed on credit.
But I have to bring the one here
With whom I'll spend all my summers,
For better,
For worse, but with her.
As for Katrin, only a son of a bitch would say anything bad.
She played her own movie, which is totally OK,
Everyone chooses their own character.
A small frightened creature, a small tangled knot,
A sparrow carried by the wind...
And that's it for us...
A tear stings for a moment but doesn't leave a stain.
And she waved to me for a long time from the train window...
And she wrote to me later that she remembers the southern sun...
And she called me, in the fall, to come to Dijon...
But... She wouldn't be the same there... But some other girl...
Forgive me, Katrin, maybe I wasn't kind,
Even though I liked you.
Forgive me, Katrin... Everything is just smoke now...
Of our love – not a trace...
Not a trace.