Резултати претраге

Umreti za ideje

Click to see the original lyrics (French)
Umreti za ideje,
To je ideja izvrsna.
Ja, skoro da sam umro
Jer je nisam imao,
Jer svi oni koji su je imali,
Najbučnija rulja,
Obrušila se na mene,
Divlje vrišteći.
Uspeli su uveriti mene
I moju drsku muzu
Da se odreknemo svojih zabluda
I pristupimo njihovoj veri
Ali ipak,
Uz dozu rezerve:
Umreti za ideje,
Slažem se,
Ali bez žurbe,
Slažem se,
Ali bez žurbe.
 
2
Kad procenimo da je
Ovde sve u redu
Krenimo prema onom svetu
Polaganim hodom
Jer, žureći,
Mogli bi na kraju umreti
Za ideje koje sutra
Više neće biti u modi.
Sad ako je išta
Gorka i mučna stvar
Kad predaješ dušu Bogu
To je sigurno priznati
Da smo krenuli krivim putem,
I odabrali pogrešnu ideju .
Umreti za ideje,
Slažem se,
Ali bez žurbe,
Slažem se,
Ali bez žurbe.
 
3
Sveti Jovani Zlatousti
Koji propovedaju mučeništvo
Najčešće, mimo toga
Se motaju ovde dole
Umreti za ideje,
Iskreno govoreći
Njihov je razlog za život
Kog se neće lišiti
U svim njihovim taborima
Možete videti neke koji će uskoro
Dostići Metuzalema
U svojoj dugovečnosti
Iz ovoga zaključujem da moraju
Razmišljati u sebi:
Umreti za ideje,
Slažem se,
Ali bez žurbe,
Slažem se,
Ali bez žurbe.
 
4
Ideje stalno traže,
Veliku žrtvu,
A sekte svih vrsta se nude
Da to i ostvare
I nameće se pitanje
Svim novim žrtvama:
Umreti za ideje,
U redu, ali za koje?
Jer sve uglavnom
Liče jedna na drugu
Pa kad ih vidi da dolaze
Sa svojim velikim barjakom
Mudar čovjek, oklevajući,
Mota se oko groba.
Umreti za ideje,
Slažem se,
Ali bez žurbe,
Slažem se,
Ali bez žurbe.
 
5
Takođe, kad bi bilo dovoljno
Par velikih pokolja
Da se sve promeni,
Da se sve složi!
Nakon toliko 'velikih noći'
Kad je toliko glava palo,
Već bismo bili tamo,
U raju na zemlji.
Ali zlatno doba neprestano se odlaže
Za sledeći mesec,
Bogovi su uvijek žedni,
Nikad im nije dosta
I samo smrt, smrt
Svaki put iznova smrt
Umreti za ideje,
Slažem se, ali bez žurbe,
Slažem se,
Ali bez žurbe.
 
6
O vi, buntovni,
Vi, sveti apostoli,
Idite vi prvi
Mi vam nećemo braniti
Ali, molim vas, zaboga,
Pustite druge da žive!
Njihovi su životi, prosto rečeno,
Jedini luksuz koji imaju ovde

Loš glas

U mom selu, skromno zborim,
Moj je glas međ' najgorim.
I kad planem i kad ćutim,
Smatraju me uvrnutim!
Moj put nikog ne ometa
Držim stranu malog sveta.
Al' kod česnih ne prolaze
Ti što slede druge staze,
Ne, nikako ne prolaze
Ti što slede druge staze,
Na meni se svak' otrese,
Osim nemih, razume se.
 
Kad je praznik celom svetu
Ja se baškam po krevetu.
Masa što pod konac kroči,
Meni lično bode oči.
Ne činim ni smetnju neku,
To što mrzim slavlja jeku.
Al' kreposni loše vide
Kad ko drugom brazdom ide,
Da, kreposni loše vide
Kad ko drugom brazdom ide,
Svi mi živi prstom prete
Sem bezrukih, razumete.
 
Kada trči lopov nejak,
Što ga goni neki seljak

The health bulletin

I lost my jowls, I lost my paunch
And this in a way so clear, so sudden
That some suppose I have in me an evil that does not forgive
Who laughs at Aesculapius and leaves him stunned
 
The Loch Ness monster no longer bringing its dime
During hollow times in certain gazettes
Systematically, obituaries like
To shroud me under sausage wrapper1
 
Now, tired of serving as a punching ball
Of the gloomy tales I'm the star of 2
I, who am well, who breathes health
I step forward and scream the whole truth
 
All the truth, gentlemen, I deliver it to you
If I left the ranks of the over-two-hundred-pounds
It's the because of Mimi, Lisette, Ninon
And many others, I don't remember names
 
If I betrayed the fat, the chubby, the obese
It's that I fuck, that I fuck, that I fuck
Like a buck, a ram, a beast, a brute
I am haunted: the heat, the heat, the heat, the heat
 
Let me be understood, I have the soul of a satyr
And his behavior, but that doesn't mean
That I have the talent, the genius, far from it
Not a single one yet shouted “bravo!' to me
 
Among other fine flowers, I count on my pink
List a decent number of journalists' wives
Who, thinking I'm done, put all their faith
To give me happiness one last time
 
It's beautiful, it's generous, it's big, it's magnificent
And, in the most pornographic positions
I give them the honors with the buttocks down
On piles of drafts, piles of unsold
 
And that's what makes that when your legitimate (wife)
Show their buttocks to the people as well as to your intimate friends
You can often read, printed backwards
The echoes, the little gossip, the in-briefs
 
And if you hear surging through the plinths
From the boudoir of these ladies groans and complaints
Do not say: 'It is Uncle Georges who is expiring'
It's just the angels who sigh 3
 
And if you hear screaming like in (nineteen)fourteen
'Arise ! Arise the dead! », Do not bulge the torso
It's the exalted wife of an editor
Which prompts me to assault once again
 
Certainly, it happens to me, flip side
To sometimes leave feathers in battle
Hippocrates says: 'Yes, these are cockscombs'
And Gallien replies: 'No, it's gonococci'
 
Both are right, sometimes Venus gives you
Wicked kicks that a good Christian forgives
Because if they cause harm to manly attributes
They seldom endanger existence
 
Well, yes, I have all that, ransom of my frenzy
The boat for Kythera is quarantined
But I haven't yet, no, no, no, three times no
This mysterious evil whose name we hide
 
If I betrayed the fat, the chubby, the obese
It's that I fuck, that I fuck, that I fuck
Like a buck, a ram, a beast, a brute
I am haunted: the heat, the heat, the heat, the heat
 

• 1. Litt: 'Cabbage leaves', newspapers
• 2. Untranslatable, 'À dormir debout' means 'unbelievable', so here unbelievable + gloomy
• 3. Euphemism for 'Orgasm'

Ballad to the Moon

Versions: #2
It was, in the dark night,
On the yellowed steeple,
The moon, the moon
Like a dot on an i.
 
Moon, what dark spirit
Walks at the end of a leash
Through the gloom,
Your face and your profile?
 
Are you the one-eyed heavens’ single eye?
Which bigoted cherub
Peers at us
Beneath your pale mask?
 
Are you merely a ball?
A big fat daddy-long-legs
That rolls, that rolls
Without legs and arms?
 

Смањио сам се

Никад нисам скидао капу
никоме,
а сад пезим
кад год ме позове.
Био сам опасан пас, а она ме је натерала
да јој једем из ручице.
Имао сам вучје зубе, али сам их заменио
за млечне зубиће!
 
Смањио сам се због лутке
која затвара очи кад се стави у кревет.
Смањио сам се због лутке
која каже „мама“ кад се дотакне.
 
Био сам жилаво месо а она ме је променила,
паметница,
и пао сам, сав топао, сав печен
у њена уста,
пуна млечних зуба кад се осмехује,
и кад пева,
а вучјих зуба кад је бесна,
кад се разгоропади.
 
Прихватам њене законе,
поданик сам њене власти,
иако је љубоморна до лудила,
па и горе.
Један лепи зимзеленак, који ми се учинио
лепшим од ње,
тај лепи зимзеленак једног дана умро је
од ударца кишобраном.
 
Сви месечари, сви мудраци,
рекоше ми, без злобе,
Да ћу у њеним прекрштеним рукама
дочекати моје последње страдање.
Има горих, има бољих,
али све у свему,
обесио се ту или тамо,
свеједно је ако мораш да се бесиш.
 
(превео Гаврило Дошен)
 

Good Girl, Margot

Versions: #2
Little Margot, the shepherdess
Finding a kitten in the grass -
A kitten who had just lost his mummy -
Adopted it.
She half-opened her collar
And lay it against her chest
It was all the poor thing had
For a pillow.
The cat, taking her for his mother
Started suckling straight away
Moved, Margot let him carry on
Good girl, Margot
A local fellow passing by
Finding this unusual scene
Went off to tell everyone
And the next day
 
When Margot undid her blouse
To give a little feed to her cat
All the lads, all the lads, from the village
Were standing there, there, there, there, there, there
Standing there, there, there, there, there
And Margot, who was simple, but a very good girl
Presumed that it was to see her cat
That all the lads, all the lads, from the village
Were standing there, there, there, there, there, there
Standing there, there, there, there, there
 
The schoolteacher and his pupils,
The mayor, the verger, the bartender,
All completely neglected their duties
To see the scene,
The postman, normally so deft,
To see the scene, delivered no more
Letters which no-one
Would have read anyway
To see the scene, God forgive them,
The altar boys ran out from church
in the middle of
the Holy Sacrifice,
The policemen, even they,
Blockheads that they are,
Let themselves be touched by the charm
Of the sight
 
When Margot undid her blouse
To give a little feed to her cat
All the lads, all the lads, from the village
Were standing there, there, there, there, there, there
Standing there, there, there, there, there
And Margot, who was simple, but a very good girl
Presumed that it was to see her cat
That all the lads, all the lads, from the village
Were standing there, there, there, there, there, there
Standing there, there, there, there, there
 
Even the other local women,
Deprived of their husbands and their beaux,
Accumulated rancour
Patiently
Then one day drunk with rage
They armed themselves with sticks
And wildly they burned
The little cat
The shepherdess, after crying her tears,
Took a husband as consolation
And never again revealed her charms
But for him
Time passed and the memory faded
The event was forgotten
Only the old folks still told
Their grandchildren
 
When Margot undid her blouse
To give a little feed to her cat
All the lads, all the lads, from the village
Were standing there, there, there, there, there, there
Standing there, there, there, there, there
And Margot, who was simple, but a very good girl
Presumed that it was to see her cat
That all the lads, all the lads, from the village
Were standing there, there, there, there, there, there
Standing there, there, there, there, there
 
~3oudicca