Od loših vesti i reklama prognan
Utekoh na treći program
Gde je, nekim čudom, tekla poznata burleska
Svi oni gegovi i lica ista
Slikovnica što se lista
Setno, k’o na dnu škrinje nađena sveska
Osmeh se zaledi na čas
Gde su sad’ Laurel i Hardi
I ovaj ljuti zrika, i njegov beli psić
O, svi su mrtvi, odnešeni
Bršljan je davno prekrio stih
Od zla i briga su rešeni
Al’ divna ludost, k’o oreol, još rominja oko njih
Bila je berba, osta’ fotka od nje
Leto neznano gospodnje
No, uglavnom, ta su burad otkad popijena
Ćale s’ kačketom, čuvenim, od tvida
Putunju sa leđa skida
Deda pred vranca spušta otkose sena
U smeđoj senci bresaka
Samo po bluzi poznam majku
I k’o da čujem mobu i kikote niz drum
Al’ svi su mrtvi i blaženi
Bršljan je davno prekrio stih
Od zlih vremena su spašeni
A trag poštenja i dobrote
K’o oreol još rominja oko njih
U godišnjaku škole
Važna lica šmekera i bubalica
Ali samo jedan moto: Drži se, Planeto
Sanjari, genijalci, šampioni
Žrtvovani k’o pioni
Pale su zastave u četrdes’ petoj
Kadgod ih sretnem, žale se
Šapuću k’o zaverenici
Al’ pijan dah je vetar što zmaja ne diže
Ma, već su mrtvi, a hodaju
Ja nisam rođen da čekam smak, ne
Moj život nije na prodaju
A kada pleteš svoj oreol
za to i nema boljeg mesta
nego mrak
English Translation
The Dead
Chased away by bad news and advertisements
I escaped to channel three
where, surprisingly, a famous burlesque was on
all the same jokes and faces
a listable picture-book
Wistfully, like a notebook found on the bottom of a chest
smile gets frozen for a second
Where are Laurel and Hardy now
and this angry squint, and his white dog
Oh, they are all dead, taken away
Ivy has long ago covered the verse
they are free from evil and worries
But a wonderful silly thing, like an aureole, still drizzles around them
It was harvest time, her picture remained
in the unknown year of the Lord
Well, anyways, the wine barrels have been emptied long ago
Daddy with a cap, the famous one, made of tweed
takes off his travel coat
Grandpa puts hay swaths in front of the horse
in the brown shadow of peaches
only by blouse I recognize my mother
and as if I hear a pleading and giggles down the road
But they are all dead and blissful
Ivy has long ago covered the verse
they’ve been saved from evil times
and a trace of honesty and goodness still drizzles around them
In school yearbook
important faces of charmers and geeks
But only one motto: Hold on, Planet
dreamers, geniuses, champions
Sacrificed like pawns
Flags have dropped in forty fifth
Whenever I meet them, they complain
they whisper like plotters
But a drunk breath is a wind that doesn’t make kite fly
Ah well, they’re already dead, but walking
I wasn’t born to wait for the doom, no
My life is not for sale
And when you knit your aureole
there isn’t a better place for it anyway
other than the dark