Текст и перевод песни Đorđe Balašević - The Last March

The Last March

Postoji jedno stručno mišljenje po kom sam uvek dosadan i isti,
Pa sam probao već svašta: bluz i tango, rege, kantri, rok i diksi.
U traganju za novim šlagerom,
Sad kopam prstima po tamburi k′o bagerom.
Ali panika, brate, tonem poput Titanika.

Jer ostade mi marš, jedino još marš.
Za ovo ovde, za hepi raju što slavi bedu u punom sjaju.
Ostade mi marš, ništa osim marš.
Pesmica jes' malo čudna, al′ vremena oskudna – daj šta daš.

Javlja se određeni utisak da imam neke momente u stihu,
Ali da moje žalostivne rime negativno utiču na psihu.
Dobar sam, kažu, u baladama,
Njima bih dirnuo i onog pravog Sadama.
Ali u ritmu sam, hm, još nedovoljno iskusan. Jel'?!

Pa da probam marš? Jednostavno marš.
Za ovo ovde, za sretno stado koje u mraku mekeće rado.
Ostade mi marš, jedino još marš.
Pesmica jes' malo jadna, al′ vremena prikladna – daj šta daš.

Kažu da pesma nas je održala. I ja lično zastupam tu tezu.
Al′ sad na primer imam tremu, imam jezu kao slepac na trapezu.
Ovo je rasklimana država.
To više bre ni Pavaroti ne održava,
Kamoli jadan ja. Idi, to su naivna nadanja.

Al' možda legne marš, možda treba marš.
Za ovo ovde veselo krdo što je na svome tek kad mu je tvrdo.
Ostade mi marš, jedino još marš.
Jes′ da je pesmica bedna, al' vremena vanredna – daj šta daš.

Pa da probam još marš, kratko – jasno marš.
Za ovo ovde, lenjo do srži čiji je moto "trpi i rži".
Ostade mi marš, ništa, samo marš.
Uglavnom, što bi se reklo, al′ vreme je isteklo – daj šta daš.

Marš ti, oca ti jebem bezobraznog.

The Last March

There is an expert opinion that I am always boring and the same,
Well, I have tried everything: blues and tango, reggae, country, rock, and Dixieland.
In search of a new hit,
I'm now digging the tambourine with my fingers like an excavator.
But baby, the panic is rising, I'm sinking like the Titanic.

Because only one thing's left to me, the march, yes, just the march.
For this place, for the happy fools who celebrate misery in all its glory.
Only the march remains, nothing but the march.
The song may be a bit strange, but times are tough – take what you can get.

There is a certain impression that I have some moments in my verse,
But that my mournful rhymes negatively affect the psyche.
They say I'm good at ballads,
With them I could even touch the real Saddam.
But in rhythm, hmm, I'm not experienced enough. Right?!

So should I try the march? Just a simple march.
For this place, for the happy herd that bleats with contentment in the darkness.
Only the march remains, only the march.
The song may be a bit pitiful, but the times are ripe – take what you can get.

They say that song has sustained us. And I personally believe that thesis.
But now, for example, I have the jitters, I'm terrified like a blind man on a trapeze.
This is a disjointed state.
Even Pavarotti can't hold it together anymore,
Let alone me, you fool. Come on, those are naive hopes.

But maybe the march will work, maybe we need the march.
For this place, a merry flock that's only in its element when it's hard.
Only the march remains, only the march.
Yes, the song is pathetic, but the times are extraordinary – take what you can get.

So let me try one more march, short and clear – the march.
For this place, lazy to the core, whose motto is "suffer and endure".
Only the march remains, nothing but the march.
In short, as they say, but time's up – take what you can get.

March off, you shameless son of a gun.