Vreme samelje u prah, očas raznese ti vetar, sva dosadašnja dela
tražiš novi početak, jer proizvod osećanja koja nisu dala mira sad su samo
hrpe plastike i šarenog papira, niko neće ih za dinar, nikad nisi bio priznat,
dokazivanje predstoji ko da više nema iza brda pročitanih knjiga,
truda, pretrčanih milja, padaš, samopouzdanja nivo extremno je nizak.

Kao nemoćni starac od ljudi bežiš u sebi
ali tamo je već haos, ludiš u glavi je nered,
Kad sve poteze drugih ti pamtiš kao fix ideje,
bolna sujeta curi na papir, truje tvoje pesme
Tako crne na belo te tvrde reči, odraz tebe
bi celom svetu samo bile samo dokaz bede,
Gužvaš tabak po tabak, u kantu bacaš
nek bacaš za svetlom džaba ti tragaš,
kada sama svest je mračna,
I žarišta su hladna gde je buktala vatra,
oko sebe širih gadan teškog proseka zadah,
A na velika vrata već kuca zli duh očajanja,
čudo deli se od spasa preostaje samo nada.

Nema maestra iz pravog remek dela,
šta će ostati za tobom teško da je ova pesma,
teško da je ovaj refren, teško da je nova strofa,
biće da je onaj kome putokaz je tvoja stopa.

Nema maestra iz pravog remek dela,
šta će ostati za tobom teško da je ova pesma,
teško da je ovaj refren, teško da je nova strofa,
biće da je onaj kome putokaz je tvoja stopa.

Bez daha biješ, nemo gledaš započeto delo
što na nulu svodi vrednost tvoga opusa celog,
Budi svestan da si svedok priželjkivanog čuda, kreacije,
vreme počinje od tog trenutka,
Drugačije konfiguracije, boje zvuka,
bogatije od ranijeg tvog životnog iskustva.

Orkan emocija koji svet pred sobom je zbrisao
pa iznova sazidao u sasvim drugi smisao,
Na planine te digao, tamo nazireš prostranstvo
put u monumentalnost preko odricanja konstantnog,
meša ljubav i hrabrost sa neizvesnošću i strahom,
prvi korak novom stazom , obasjanom tvojom vatrom,
ne izostaje napor sve je prirodno i lako
instikt postaje zakon, ti veštiji svakim satom,
džaba mozgao si stalno ispunjavao platno planom,
već je zapisano davno u genima proročanstvo.

Nema maestra iz pravog remek dela,
šta će ostati za tobom teško da je ova pesma,
teško da je ovaj refren, teško da je nova strofa,
biće da je onaj kome putokaz je tvoja stopa

Nema maestra iz pravog remek dela,
šta će ostati za tobom teško da je ova pesma,
teško da je ovaj refren, teško da je nova strofa,

Radoš Ćulibrk:
Glavu gore, ulicu pod noge, dajem krv, suze, znoj,
čuvaj osmeh za posle borbe, svet je tvoj sine moj,
glavu gore, ulicu pod noge dajem krv, suze znoj,
čuvaj osmeh za posle borbe, svet je tvoj, sine moj!

English Translation

A Master Piece

Time grinds to dust, in a second the wind blows away all previous deeds
you’re looking for a new beginning, ’cause the result of feelings that wouldn’t leave you alone are now just
piles of plastic and colourful paper, nobody wants them for a dime, you’ve never been recognised
proving yourself is yet ahead, as if, behind the hill, there’s no more read books,
no more effort, no miles that have been run, you’re falling, your self confidence is extremely low.

Like a helpless old man you’re hiding inside yourself,
but it’s already chaotic there, you’re losing your mind, you’re a mess,
When all other people’s moves you memorise like silly ideas,
painful vanity is leaking on paper, spoiling your songs
So black on white, those harsh words, a reflection of you,
to the entire world, would just be a proof of misery,
You’re crumpling the paper, sheet by sheet, throwing it into the bin,
you can throw it, in vain you search for the light
when the mind itself is dark,
Even burn zones are cold where once fire blazed,
around myself I emitted a nasty breath with a heavy average,
And the evil spirit of despair is already at the door,
miracle is parting from salvation, only hope remains.

There’s no maestro from a true master piece,
that you will leave behind, hardly is it this song,
hardly is it this chorus, hardly is it a new verse,
seems it’s the one whom your footsteps will guide.

There’s no maestro from a true master piece,
that you will leave behind, hardly is it this song,
hardly is it this chorus, hardly is it a new verse,
seems it’s the one whom your footsteps will guide.

Breathless, you beat, in silence you watch the newly started piece
that to zero reduces your entire opus,
Have in mind that you’re witnessing the long awaited miracle, creation
time starts with that moment,
Different configuration, sound,
richer than your previous life experience.

A hurricane of emotions that the world had wiped away
and then rebuilt again into an entirely different sense,
Lifted you up onto mountains, there you catch site of vast space,
a road to monumentality, through constant denial,
confusing love and courage with uncertainty and fear,
the first step on a new path, lit up with your fire,
the effort is not missing, everything is natural and easy,
the instinct becomes the rule, you get better at it by the hour,
in vain you racked your brain, constantly filled the canvas with plans,
the prophecy has long ago been written in the genes.

There’s no maestro from a true master piece,
that you will leave behind, hardly is it this song,
hardly is it this chorus, hardly is it a new verse,
seems it’s the one whom your footsteps will guide.

There’s no maestro from a true master piece,
that you will leave behind, hardly is it this song,
hardly is it this chorus, hardly is it a new verse.

Radoš Ćulibrk:
Chin up, get out on the street, I give blood, tears, sweat,
save the smile for after the fight, the world is yours, my son,
Chin up, get out on the street, I give blood, tears, sweat,
save the smile for after the fight, the world is yours, my son!

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