djordje balasevic - Ratnik Paorskog Srca - to english

Kada se Braca devetnaeste vrn'o s dalekog fronta 'di soldat je biv'o
Pric'o nam kako ga trefilo zrno, pa zavrt'o rukav i to pokaziv'o
A mi, mi smo bili derani, a mi, mi smo bili derani

Pric'o nam Braca o mirisu mora i o patroli od koje je bez'o
I kako je opsov'o nekog majora i zbog tog posle na robiji lez'o
A mi, mi smo bili derani, a mi, mi smo bili derani

Pric'o nam kako je pres'o Karpate, zujali meci k'o rojevi pcela
Rek'o je: Rat vam je krvav da znate, al' nije mi zao ni ljudi ni sela
Hej, zao mi konja

Kada se Braca devetnaeste vrn'o pric'o je svako vece na soru
Kol'ko je curica usput prevrn'o i kako topovi livade oru
A mi, mi smo bili derani, a mi, mi smo bili derani

I cim Braca korak iz avlije kroci skupi se drustvo iz naseg sokaka
A svi smo imali velike oci, prepuna srca i mastu decaka
Pa da, jer tad smo bili derani, pa da, tad smo bili derani

Psov'o je braca i krivce i zrtve, puske i vaske i rov prepun blata
Rek'o je: Ne mo's izbrojati mrtve jer su se carevi igrali rata
Hej, zao mi konja

Negde u braci je paorski koren i moze rata i rata da bude
Kad nije paor za soldata stvoren, volije konje i zemlju neg' ljude
A mi, mi smo bili derani i sve jos je vredelo za nas
Hej, hej, konji beli nebom terani, kroz san i kroz oblake u kas

A Warrior With Peasant Heart

When, in 1919, Braca came back from a far battlefield where he was a soldier
He was telling us about how a bullet hit him, and then pulled up his sleeve and showed it to us
And we, we were youngsters, and we, we were youngsters

Braca used to tell us about the smell of sea and about a patrol he'd ran from
and about how he cursed some major and then later did his time in jail because of it
And we, we were youngsters, and we, we were youngsters

He used to tell us about how he crossed over the Carpathian mountains, how bullets buzzed like swarms of bees
He said: War is a bloody thing you know, but I don't pity the people nor the villages
Hey, I feel sorry for the horses

When Braca came back, in 1919, he'd tell stories every night in the neighborhood
How many girlies he had on the way and about cannons plowing meadows
And we, we were youngsters, and we, we were youngsters

And as soon as Braca would step out of the yard, our neighborhood crowd would gather
And our eyes were big, hearts full and imagination boyish
Well yes, because then we were youngsters, well yeah, we were youngsters then

Braca used to curse the guilty ones as well as victims, guns and lice and a muddy trench
He'd say: You can't count the dead because the czars played war
Hey, I feel sorry for the horses

Somewhere in Braca, there's a peasant root even when there's a war
when a peasant is not made out to be a soldier, he preferred horses and land to people
And we, we were youngsters and everything still mattered to us
Hey, hey, white horses hunted across the sky, through the dream and clouds into trot


*vaska (lice) can also be dog

PS
ne mozem bolje..