LyricsTranslations

Kad god prođem ulicom sa tvojim imenom
pomislim na onu pesmu…
Već je godinama ne pevam,
stari refren nikom ne treba.

A ljudi pesme kratko pamte, Komandante…

Ostaće u knjigama i priča o nama:
Balkan krajem jednog veka.
Svako pleme crta granicu.
Svi bi hteli svoju stranicu…

Tope se snovi kao sante, ej Komandante…

Chorus:
Na barikadama su opet zastave,
svet ide k’o na praznike.
I decu izvode s jutarnje nastave
da vide gladne radnike…

A gde smo mi, naivni,
što smo se dizali na “Hej Sloveni”?
Kao da smo uz tu priču izmišljeni…

Vremena su nezgodna za momka kao ja
koji gleda svoja posla…
Nisam lutak da me naviju.
Imam samo Jugoslaviju…

Sve druge baklje bez mene plamte, e Komandante…

(Chorus)

I svi su tu da dobiju na toj lutriji…
Na barikadama su uvek najbrži,
al’ nikad i najmudriji.

A gde smo mi, naivni,
što smo se dizali na “Hej Sloveni”?
Kao da smo uz tu priču izmišljeni…

I prevareni…

I kad god prođem ulicom sa tvojim imenom
pomislim na panta rei…
Baciće se, tako, neki lik
kamenom i na tvoj spomenik.

Jer sve se menja, i sve teče… Čoveče

English Translation

Requiem

Whenever I walk the street with your name
I think of that song…
I’ve been singing it for years,
nobody needs an old chorus.

And people remember songs only for a short period, commander…

There will remain, in books, the story of us:
Balkan at the end of a century
Every tribe draws it’s own borders.
Everybody wants their own page…

Dreams melting like icebergs, hey commander..

On barricades, there are flags again,
people are leaving like for holidays,
and children are taken out of their morning lessons
to see hungry workers…

And where are we, naive people
that used to get up at the sound of “Hey Slavs“?
As if, within the story, we were invented …

Times are difficult for a guy like me
that takes care of his own business..
I’m not a puppet to be wind up.
I only have Yugoslavia… *

All other torches are burning without me, eh commander…

And everybody’s here to win the lottery…
They are always the fastest on the barricades,
but never the wisest.

And where are we, naive people
that used to get up at the sound of “Hey Slavs“?
As if, within the story, we were invented …

And duped…

And whenever I walk the street with your name
I think of panta rei…
That way, some character will throw
a stone at your tomb too.

Because everything changes, and everything flows.. Man