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Journey to the Center of the Earth

When I got home from work this morning
Grey paper was waiting for me
My dear was gone, she has had enough of everything
She never knows if I am alive
 
Go, beautiful doll, go away
You're a fragile person
You never stepped there with your foot
You have no idea what darkness is
 
Down there devils are reproducing
Three mountains press against my neck
My life, you're not a real friend
But so be it, so be it, it will be sweeter
When I find the heart of the earth
 
One Frenchman, some wise writer 1
He prophesied a lot of things
Maybe he never worked as a miner
But I love him as my own
 
The book says there is a place
In the middle of the earth a sun is shining
You can go there with a million two hundred
I seek the heart of the old land and the sun for the miners
 
I'm digging, the devils are reproducing
Three mountains press against my neck
My life, you're not a real friend
But so be it, so be it, it will be sweeter
When I find the heart of the earth
 
There I listen, I breath, there I tread
I endure the best I know
But one day I'll drill this earth
And I'll find the light
 
The book says there is a place
In the middle of the earth a sun is shining
You can go there with a million two hundred
I seek the heart of the old land and the sun for the miners
 
Let's go, the devils are reproducing
Three mountains press against my neck
My life, you're not a real friend
But so be it, so be it, it will be sweeter
When I find the heart of the earth
When I discover the heart of the earth
 

• 1. This is the reference to Jules Verne as well as the name of the song, which is also the name of one of Verne's novels

Suggestion

My honey, how are the things?
Time is working for us.
I was just thinking, why would we get wet in rain
When we could stay at your place?
 
It's raining, where would we go now?
Dark clouds above the city.
It's what it is - let's hide from the storm.
 
The heart beats like a military drum,
It's a dangerous sign
I'm in a crisis and whenever you're near
I black out.
 
Now, maybe, a record would be a good idea
Some music of the times gone by
Chubby Checker or some other similar ladykiller
 
Ever since I have known you
Old pictures have a new frame
Ever since I know you
Some ordinary things sound odd to me
 
I was alone
Like nobody else in the world, as far as I know
I was alone,
But that was long ago, as long ago as yesterday
 
Ladies' choice...
 
Tonight we could have gone
To a restaurant or a bar
Wherever we would have been
We would have been drinking
That's a problem, that's the exact thing
 
Why would I hide it? I'm bad when I drink,
I get into an argument and then I fight,
So it's better if the two of us stay here.
 
Ever since I have known you
Old pictures have a new frame
Ever since I know you
Some ordinary things sound odd to me
 
I was alone
Like nobody else in the world, as far as I know
I was alone,
But that was long ago, as long ago as yesterday
 
Comradettes' choice...
 

For the Graveyard Shift

Versions: #1
Do you see where I am now, at what age?
Strange birds, you know, soar through my dreams.
For I am still too young to think of passing,
And already too old to count the stars.
 
Do you hear the silence, that sound? Time is passing by,
It's buzzing and threatening us through the night, shivering like a cobra.
Don't you start with serious matters right now,
Come, cuddle up to me and be a good girl...
 
And then pour me another one, for the scapegoats,
For the jugglers,
Don't worry, I can handle a lot of it.
Pour another one, for those tired welders,
For the proletarians
Tonight it's on the graveyard shift...
 
Soon the day will down, another holiday,
They're all blue like dreams to you,
They're all the same to you,
You rarely wake up at six, only if you have to
When you have to take a trip or an exam...
 
And then pour me another one, for the scapegoats,
For the jugglers,
Don't worry, I can handle a lot of it.
Pour another one, for those tired welders,
For the proletarians
Tonight it's on the graveyard shift...
 
Sometimes I too search for the Golden Fleece,
Perhaps I'll dream of smoke, fire and steel.
It's not your fault, really, I love you so much.
Now give me a large goodnight kiss...
 
And then pour me another one, for the scapegoats,
For the jugglers,
Don't worry, I can handle a lot of it.
Pour another one, for those tired welders,
For the proletarians
Tonight it's on the graveyard shift...
 

The Story Of Vasi Ladackom

Versions:
Do you know the story of Vasi Ladackom? I, too, heard it not too long ago.
Once, nine days, he hadn't come out of the tavern, they say he was of a peculiar sort...
His father was a meager peasant who fed seven hungry mouths.
His mother was blond, silent and gentle, hectic,
She died at thirty something...
 
They had a couple acres of land, a small house at the end of a narrow alley.
There was always bread on their table, just as much as they needed,
but Vasa wanted so much more.
 
He wanted wild horses, scattered on fields,
A pocket watch with a golden chain and manors...
He wanted fertile land, noble vineyards,
In stables harnessed mares, but he couldn't have them.
 
His love was pretty, but poor. He'd have taken her,
Had he known:
You love only once in life, now a rich one or a poor one,
That isn't decided by intelligence, but by heart...
 
He hoped that his love would pass. He forever left his village.
Never did he write to anyone, he married a rich woman,
The single daughter of some rich functionary.
 
He received wild horses, scattered on fields,
A watch with a golden chain and manors...
He received fertile land, noble vineyards,
In stables harnessed mares. He had everything, and had nothing.
 
Young, they say, was he when he died, in the middle of a tavern, from heart failure.
His head hung, as if he dreamt, as if he slept,
And they still remember what he last said...
 
Worthless are wild horses, scattered on fields,
Worthless are watches and manors,
Worthless are fertile field, noble vineyards,
Worthless are stables, mares...
 
When I'm not with the one I love,
When I'm not with the one I love.
 
Do you know the story of Vasi Ladackom? I, too, heard it not too long ago.
Even those similar to him, when they think about everything,
Say he was of a peculiar sort...
 

Nightowl

Nightowl,
My old suitcase is like a cocker, scratching onto the door in vain.
Two stars are making their nest in your eyes...
You're getting drowsy...
And it's warm here... Under this roof
On a safe ground... In the fortress of dreams.
Well, happy new year to you.
 
Nightowl,
The villains will croak but to touch you they must never
As the duplicates will be first to know who the unique one is.
 
When the world swoops... Turn your cheek.
God touches the flower that sprouts in a shadow.
Well happy new year to me too.
 
You always know the best way,
With you I easily defend our throne.
You are that thread, that rare spice
That gives it a special tone.
 
You are my little magician that brings salvation.
And all these clowns on conveyor belts can hurry on without us.
 
Nightowl...
If anyone looks for me, you can easily tell them I am long gone.
And be a darling and set the alarm for Wednesday... Thursday?
And it's frosty outside, foggy and cold.
And it's dark outside... but everything fits well, since I have you.
 
You always know the best way,
With you I easily defend our throne.
You are that thread, that rare spice
That gives it a special tone.
 
You are my little magician that brings salvation.
And all these clowns on conveyor belts can hurry on without us.
 
You always know the best way,
With you I easily defend our throne.
You are that thread, that rare spice
That gives it a special tone.
 
You always know the most beautiful words,
You even are more quiet than anyone else.
You have a laugh that cures me,
You even turn swear words into a verse.
 

Nice gentle song

I wasn't choosing then
Nor where nor what I've been playing
But that is the magic of it
She came and said
'Try, at least once,
to write for me some nice slow song
nice gentle song'
 
And with two-three chords
since I cannot do it better
song was born
As soon as they heard it,that gentle song,
everyone was singing it and danced gracefully
with that gentle song
 
The great beast heard me
producers,managers,
they realized what gift I have
they offered me heaven's fruit
plenty of money,fame,records
soon I became super-star
 
Thanks to music, just like a puppet on a string,
I was lead around the world
They said: 'He is the one,Wonder child'
But I was just singing the same thing for million times
nice gentle song
 
Believe or not , I gave interview
for all possible newspaper
Everyone was recording me and expecting me to say
when and where I came up with that brilliant song
Nice gentle song
 
Some said that I was golden-boy
And some that I am charlatan
And I was loosing my self more and more
When I stooped and thought about it
I took a look at my life
and I said to my self 'Go home, my old pal'
 
I wanted a new life
Red roof in shadow of the elm tree
And my darling...
Wherever I went,I was dreaming about her
Ever since the day she asked me to write
nice gentle song
 
I wanted to find her right away
and the moment I arrived at the station
I asked about her
Then they said to me
That she got married for some idler
with whom she fall in love while she was dancing
to nice gentle song
 

Julia (mourning for the South)

Versions: #1
A Gypsy guy,
Sugar-coated and sly,
Sold me a tambura...
Beggars and beys' great-great-grandson...
A finger on the string slips away,
The ill-fated song catches me off-guard,
I don't know anymore if it's mine - or his...
 
Oh, may the lightning strike me like it does the hay,
If there's anything I'd be mourning for...
Damn the prankster be, he hid me the sorrow along with the tambura
 
A rabbi granted me a book,
Deadly as a carbine
If one could only tell one lie from the other...
But for long I haven't been able to tell
If I'm reading it or writing it
I open my mouth, and the wise man speaks...
 
And so, a tear drops in the mastic...
It roils the glass, and then roils even the days...
I am made less of myself,
The Nomad makes the bigger part
And that weirdo's ranting something,
He doesn't ever get enough of the Sun
 
[Chorus:]
The barren poplars are mourning...
And while I'm listening to them
I'm always caught by the rhythm of the flocks
Mourning for the South...
The cranes are flying over the sky...
And this soul even tonight keeps plowing up there for that plow...
 
My love got stolen by a thief,
A doctor's son,
A priest's grandson,
He took her to the lands without snow...
She pops in my dreams,
I threaten her to stop,
In the dream is she mine - or his...
 
And so I'm cracking days as walnuts,
What gets bitter doesn't need to be bitten...
I'm sowing the world through a thin sieve,
Looking for something particular
For a penitent and a fugitive
Someone on the other side of the Sun
 
[Chorus x2:]
The barren poplars are mourning...
And while I'm listening to them
I'm always caught by the rhythm of the flocks
Mourning for the South...
The cranes are flying over the sky...
And this soul even tonight keeps plowing up there for that plow...
 

Once upon a time they planted a linden tree

Once upon a time they planted a linden tree
Old Nestorov, mister Čeda and one another
I was new in that story
Neighbor's kid whom they let watch
Old Nestorov, while burning the weeds
Said to me: You are Young
You will enjoy its shade
 
Once upon a time I loved truly
I'm talking about the real love, crazy and powerful
I drove a thousand miles
Just like that ugly Frenchman in the beautiful movie
I followed the tracks under the engine
But she saved me
And she extinguished all the others
 
Hey, everything comes to its own
I'm familiar with the rules
Only the sadness is counted
Hey, once again, bells sound the St. Luke's day
It's autumn's fault
That I am always in the blue
 
Once upon a time she passed by me
With a guy whom I have known
I was ready to say hello
But she turned her head in time
For me to feel the blues
In my head
We said a stupid hi, and nodded the heads
All that what one has to do
It's OK, my doll, it's OK
 
Once upon a time they burned the leaves from that linden tree
Smoke climbed under the heavens
Up there they are, because they are gone,
Old Nestorov, mister Čeda and one another
 
He who didn't understant the tree
Before planting it
He never did anything
And he will realise once
That he doesn't know what's shade
 

Andjela

Moja je draga vestica
o tom ni reci nikome
na zidu ispod ikone
sara srca slova
 
ume sa retkim travkama
mundari tajno s cavkama
u san dozove dobre trolove
i uvek osvane nova
 
kada prode ribljom pijacom svi sapucu
evo je, bice nevolje
ali blenu kao pijani njenom podsuknjom omadijani
 
Moja je draga najbolja
andjeo dobrog naboja
prosek u nedra prolije
i eto ti carolije
 
druge mi za cas posade
bezbojnu ruzu dosade
drzimo palce vrag i ja
da potraje ta magija
 
Moja je draga vestica
uvraca trista prepreka
odavde do Beckereka
i oko carde kod Zablja
 
kad se na putu zadrzim
paprenu corbu zaprzim
munja se nebom razmaze
kao zlatna sablja
 
i samo baja,
i na pertle mi vezuje cvorove
sto sve govore
al' dok mirno spava posten svet
dugo se mirimo
to je tek vatromet
 
Moja je draga najbolja
andjeo dobrog naboja
prosek u nedra prolije
i eto ti carolije
 
druge mi za cas posade
bezbojnu ruzu dosade
drzimo palce vrag i ja
da potraje ta magija
 
(Istrumental)
 
Moja je draga najbolja
andjeo dobrog naboja
prosek u nedra prolije
i eto ti carolije
 
druge mi za cas posade
bezbojnu ruzu dosade
drzimo palce vrag i ja
da potraje ta magija
da potraje ta magija
da potraje
 

Marriage breaker

If a movie was made about my life
Or at least a comic (at least a comic).
If a comic was made about my life
I know I would be a completely negative character.
 
I have one hell of a nose for some things
Hell of a nose (hell of a nose)
For some things I have a creepy feel
And for your heart I have the perfect cure.
 
And I know your favorite verse very well
In general, I know life better than anyone
Yes, you need someone so kind and silent...
 
'Oh, you're a naughty one!'
 
But when night comes I will jeopardize your marriage!
 
A flame is burning in your eye
A dangerous flame (dangerous flame).
Some passion is shining in your eye
Oh, someone else's fruit, you're the real passion!
 
I can see everything your husband can't
Your dear husband (Your dear husband)
A dyed strand of hair, or a new lipstick
I can see everything your husband can't.
 
And my life without you would be a misery
No one ever understood me until now
And someone could say I'm one hell of a bastard...
 
'Oh, you're a naughty one!'
 
But when night comes I will jeopardize your marriage!
 
If a movie was made about my life
Or at least a comic (at least a comic).
If a comic was made about my life
I know I would be a completely negative character.
 
Your dear husband is snoring loudly
Oh, he's so rude (You think so?)
Your husband is snoring in this late hour
While I crave to be at your side!
 
And my life without you would be a misery
No one ever understood me until now
And someone could say I'm one hell of a bastard...
 
'Ah, you're so nice!'
 
But when night comes I will jeopardize your marriage!
 

Olivera

Versions: #2
On the threshold of my twenties
I was easy to get
those were the days of the modern vagabonds.
 
I don't even want to recall all of that
You know, I wanted to try everything
From all the branches the forbidden fruit called me.
 
Yes, now I regret,
but what did I know then?
You were just a little girl
your ponytail was flying with the wind like a butterfly.
 
Everything would have had
different meaning
I'd breathe my life differently
if I'd just knew you exist my Olivera.
 
Maybe I'd stood front of the same
shop window
with you, not knowing that,
Maybe we got off the same train, together, without knowing it?
 
Maybe you were so close to me
passed through my street.
and maybe we passed by each other briefly,
who knows?
 
Yes, now I regret,
but what did I know then?
You were just a little girl
your ponytail was flying with the wind like a butterfly.
 
Everything would have had
differrent meaning
I'd breathe my life differently
if I'd you by my side, Olivera.
 
Yes, now i regret,
but what did i know then?
you were just a little girl,
out of my sight, and my pen.
 
Everything would have had
different meaning
I wouldn't write songs to every girl I know,
if I'd just knew you exist, my Olivera
 
Everything would have had
differrent meaning
I would have stolen you from the crowd
and no one woud have an idea what I'm going to do.
 
I'd have knew from where I'd find my peace
I'd have hidden in the secret monastery
and waited you to grow up..
 

One verse above all

One verse above all
 
There is a verse
Apparently very simple...
One verse above all...
A verse, more like a bridge...
To overcome, to make it through...
When the story leads to nowhere...
 
There is a verse...
Full of tricks...
One verse above all
Like a verse over all the verses
So it disarms...
And like a mountain rose breaks the stone...
 
In spite to all there is a verse
That lights up the fires...
Carried away by the tide, in spite to all,
And all that mote from the shore...
In spite to all, when winter ends,
Sprouts grow green...
And, lucky them,
In love are the young deer...
 
In the scrapbook for the two Zadran* ...
A few branches of cypress on the cliff of the Adriatic ...
The breath of the gods from Velebit ...
And a seagull,
Heavenly devoted,
worthless ...
 
In spite to all there is a rhyme
That lights up the fires...
Carried away by the tide, in spite to all,
And all that mote from the shore...
In spite to all, when winter ends,
Sprouts grow green...
And lucky them,
In love, so in love, the young deer...
 
There is a verse
Apparently very simple...
One verse above all...
A verse, more like a bridge...
To overcome, to make it through....
There is a rhyme that doesn't translate.
 

We Are Still Countrymen

When the night meets Saturday
Manhattan turns into such a party
That daisies jump out of flowerpots
Dangerous types come out then
Female good-for-nothings, male sisters
But the main fun is hunting for taxies
 
The driver pulled over, as if he knew
Droplets of drizzle extinguished his headlights
And just in the moment before I thought that
I recognized St. Basil1 on his car charm
 
All taxi drivers are mostly the same
Old naysayers and nihilists
Or silent, lost for words from ugly scenes
Familiar speech just made him wince
Somebody's honked for him to hurry up
A small mouse peered from the corner of the rear-view mirror
 
But every swearword is a mousetrap2
And he couldn't wait to get caught
He pushed away the steering wheel like hot soup
Turned around and slapped his forehead
A bullet stuck in the barrel and silence
But his heart is beating in seven eights3
 
Just yesterday we were countrymen
I can immediately tell that we have the same eyes
Why are you pretending that you're foreigners
When you're not?
 
Just yesterday we were the dream team
And look how things are today
It doesn't matter that the country is new
We're still same old
 
In 19914 he packed his suitcase
Horticulture, but currently a driver
Let's go to his house, to fetch the wife and the sister-in-law
 
Three glasses, he says, start a river
And four glasses flood New York
A tear dropped and clouded his mastika5
 
And he said bitterly, don't wish it on anybody
To earn their bread with politics, that's a sin
You see, my little sons, Vangel and Blaže
Reach for the globe, looking for Strumica6
And wherever they put their little fingers on the Balkans
They cover at least three countries
 
And so it went, one drink after another
The morning blew by like fine flour
Bringing along that old longing for the South7
Nothing too bad
 
God, look after my ex-countrymen
My songs are full of their words
And our sorrows are so much the same
That they confuse me
 

• 1. Presumably in the recognizable form of an orthodox icon
• 2. Ex-Yugoslav nations are prolific swearers and swearwords are a stereotypical way to spot a compatriot abroad
• 3. 7/8 is a characteristic rhythm in Macedonian folk songs, also used in this song
• 4. i.e. at the start of Yugoslav wars
• 5. The Macedonian version of ouzo, i.e. a clear spirit which gets clouded when a drop of water is added
• 6. A town in western Macedonia
• 7. Longing For the South, or T'ga za Jug, is a famous Macedonian poem

Mother

Again I dreamed my mother on a holiday...
And wondering boding is buzzing What did that dream mean?
A stool taken out under a mulberry tree like she is awaiting me from somewhere
I dislike it less and less when I'm right...
 
A dream book with bold letters...
That is easy with the dreams...
It's a bit harder when i interpret reality..
 
In the eye dark glare from the wild hazelnut...
And, soon,a new wrinkle, because of the only child, a sinner..
Linden summer dress with sewed details...
Goes along with large spots on a garden bucket..
In a row of lavish gillyflowers... In that dream she's younger than me....
Just like I would like to remember....
 
Oh mother, snow is falling..Neither that makes me happy anymore
It is gone forever...North wind is blowing over wasted land..
Ice has covered calm waters...
And it is stretching away forever...
 
Snowflakes are falling like hordes of minutes that are long gone
Nobody is scared because I'm late..that I haven't returned from the trip yet..
Does the winter have a soul?
The night is barren... That what follows me is not giving up...
 
I rarely meet people from my tribe
They are disappearing in the column from the other side of time...
Cheating whisper of our moral sense can lead us to do evil things...
I wasn't really a son who brings good news..
 
Faces that I love are passing by and I cannot do anything about it
To some strange dream that we will meet in
 
Oh mother, snow is falling..Neither that makes me happy anymore
It is gone forever...North wind is blowing over wasted land..
Ice has covered calm waters...
And it is stretching away forever...
 
Snowflakes are falling like hordes of minutes that are long gone
Nobody is scared because I'm late..that I haven't returned from the trip yet..
Does the winter have a soul?
The night is barren... That what follows me is not giving up...
 

Leave Me Alone, Pretty Nastya

I'm being pursued by Nastassja Kinski
Every day she comes into my dreams
She tells me that she loves me, like really sincerely
And that she's languishing without me
 
I'm slightly worried about this beautiful young woman
I cannot approve of her stance
She keeps my picture like some infatuated teenager
My picture, in her wallet
 
It's all very nice and very flattering
But my face is not made for disguises
My views about those things are old-fashioned
Leave me alone, comrade Kinski
 
It's not your fault, don't take it personally
It's about principles or something like that
I was born for another woman
Leave me alone, pretty Nastya
 
I cannot understand what she sees on me
Except that I'm tall, handsome and blond1
As soon as I open my mouth, her face turns red
And she rushes to smooch me
 
Her gaze sweeps men off their feet
But I'm resisting as best I can
She hugs me strongly, all Greco-Roman2
She wants to kiss me movie-style
 
Slow down lassie, hold your fire
Just go back to your rotten West3
To Paris, Texas and among Cat People
I'm not going anywhere from Bačka4.
 

• 1. He's actually short and chubby
• 2. As in Greco-Roman wrestling
• 3. As in rotten capitalist West
• 4. The region where Novi Sad is located

I Wasn't Right For Her

She liked classic music and jazz
She mostly read Pearl Buck
Her great-grandfather was a Russian prince
He came all the way from the Urals
 
I wasn't right for her
I wasn't right for her
No never was I right for her
I wasn't right for her
 
She saw mostly the entire world
London, Paris, Amsterdam and Rome
She drove a blue Renault 5
She drove it quite decently
 
But anyway, I wasn't right for her
I wasn't right for her
I wasn't right for her
I wasn't right for her
 
She lived like a watch
A strict plan for every day
She wanted to know it all
What's happening, who's with whom?
 
I'm a completely different kind
Oh, so wonderfully free
I don't give a damn about her jet set
So, that's it
 
It wouldn't have been much of a marriage
When the wife's idol is uncle Freud
While her husband is superficial and lightweight
Football, Coca Cola and Pink Floyd
 
Oh, mama, I wasn't right for her
I wasn't right for her
No, really, I wasn't right for her
I wasn't right for her
 
We run into each other occasionally
She asks me what I'm doing now
She tells me in short lines
What's happening, who's with whom
 
I tell her that I grieve
Play cards and drink a lot
Hang out with clouds
She says: It's your own fault
 
But anyway, I wasn't right for her
I wasn't right for her
No, really, I wasn't right for her
I wasn't right for her
 

Boža The Jack

This is a story that I very much enjoy telling
It's the story of Boža AKA The Jack.
Some sing him praises, others pity him
Yet others say: 'Oh, brother,
He was as rotten as a decayed tooth.'
 
From here all the way to Budapest and to Srem in the south
Stories about him are still told in shady gambling circles
And they say: 'He never played on credit in his life!'
And they all agree that these days
There are none like Boža The Jack
 
He had some land somewhere, that was more-or-less known
Even though he never said a word about it
He was supposed to be a veterinarian, but he was always pigheaded
So he lived off gambling all his life
 
Oh, that man followed cards as if he saw through them
Always cool as spritzer, always dangerously silent
And only when warding off bad luck he'd say a verse
And everybody still remembers the words for warding off bad luck
As said by Boža The Jack
 
It's no use having money, my nephews*
It's no use being eager
Nor gazing sternly nor having sticky fingers
I still cheat a little better
 
Oh, yeah!
 
But the card is a whore, excuse my French
Because I just tell it as I hear it
And if I was lied to, then I'm lying to you now
 
Everybody knows this story, from the devil to the priest
Because many scoundrels were left with nothing
There's a gambler hiding and lurking in every one of us
And waiting for the right moment
 
He once played cards with some Russian emigrant
That was a loan shark as rich as a prince
There was also the post office manager, endearingly called Ljupče
And some smuggler that the whole district was looking for
 
Oh, that was a game, stories are still told
Onlookers in trance, cold sweat breaking
A heap of money on the table, let's not mention the amount
And he drew a queen on eighteen*
Cool as ice, Boža The Jack
 
Have you heard about the time when he played with a certain baron
For four days? That was war!
He had strong cards all the time, so he won a carriage
A black horse, a cigarette case, a walking stick and a watch
 
The baron later complained that the deck was old
That he drank too much, that he was caught up in the excitement
But all the losers moan, that's a well known thing
And everybody loses at least sometimes
But never Boža The Jack
 
It's no use having money, my nephews
It's no use being eager...
 
In gigolo matters, he was no Tarzan
But he was by no means a hare
He had some ladies here and there, but we all know very well
That what counts with women is some fifth ace
 
Love is a game in which bluffing often doesn't work
A heart is harder to get into than the best safe
He had his ladies of diamonds, spades, hearts and clubs
And he remained faithful to them
Until the judgement day, Boža The Jack
 
My dear gentlemen, he disappeared without a trace
Giving the whole story a weird tone
Some horse traders swore that near Sombor they met
Some guy that looked exactly like him
 
Maybe cards took him all the way to Prague or Vienna
Nobody's heard a word about him for a long time
Is he still hanging around on Earth or has he thrown in the towel
And now plays with angels in heaven
Raub, Préférence and Pontoon*
 
It's no use having money, my nephews
It's no use being eager...
 

Panonian sailor

I'm looking at Banat, Srem and Bačka
From the top of Fruška Gora
I'm looking, and there's turmoil in my soul
There was, according to books, a sea here once
It waited for me and then it dried up
 
I'm a born mariner like Magellan
Or even better, like Admiral Cook
In this plain among the fields I'm losing hope
A sea dog marooned in the cornfields
 
My sea doesn't exist
And I don't know what to do
My old man says that Danube isn't bad either
 
My sea doesn't exist, but
I still live in hope
That maybe someday we will meet again
 
My life is therefore bitter like tonic water
My despair is endless and bottomless
But luckily, there's Moon the lighthouse
Guiding me through the blue waters of dreams
 
Oh, why did it have to happen to me
I don't know should I cry or should I laugh
Some sailors maybe lose their ships
But to lose a sea is exceptionally bad luck
 
My sea doesn't exist...