Joan of Arc
Leonard CohenOriginal | Versione croata di Srđan Depolo, da A Thousand Kisses Deep |
JOAN OF ARC | IVANA ORLEANSKA |
Trough the flames the followed Joan of Arc As she came riding through the dark; No moon to keep her armour bright, No man to get her through this very smokey night. | Iz mraka jezdi Ivana snena, plamom iskri staza njena, čvrst oklop traži mjesec žut... a rûke snažne nema za loman skut. |
She said, "I'm tired of the war, I want the kind of work I had before, A wedding dress or something white To wear upon my swollen appetite". | I reče: »Dosta igre grube, želim one što divlje ljube, velebna zvona i bijelo tkanje, tu krunu, za moje davne dječje sanje...« |
Well I'm glad to hear you talk this way, ou know I've watched you riding every day And something in me yearns to win Such a cold and lonesome heroine... | »Želji je mojoj otrov pravi, tvoj vlažan hod po kišnoj travi, i napast zgazit će vrlinu, za hladnu i tako blijedu heroinu.« |
"And who are you?", she sternly spoke, To the one beneath the smoke, "Why? I am fire", he replied, "And I love your solitude and I love your pride". | »Tko zbori« – sjevne glas njen grubi, skrivenom nadom da je snubi, »Plam gorući zborim, znaj, i volim blijedu čežnju... volim tvoj sjaj...« |
"Then fire make your body cold, I'm gonna give you mine to hold," Saying this she climbed inside To be his one, to be his only bride. | »Zbog mene oganj krv nek' sledi, za vlažan hod i drhtaj blijedi,« prozboreć' tiho kleknu smjerna, i osta samo jedna, do groba vjerna. |
And deep into his fiery heart He took the dust of Joan of Arc, And high above the wedding guests He hung the ashes of her wedding dress. | U gorućoj dubini čežnje njen blijedi prah u šaku stegne nad povorkom, pred snom vjenčanja, on prostre prah od bijelog njenog tkanja. |
It was deep into his fiery heart He took the dust of Joan of Arc, And then she clearly understood If he was fire, oh then she must be wood. | U dnu goruće dubine čežnje njen blijedi prah on šakom stegne i tad prekasno joj svijest bî dana, da plamen on je, a ona suha grana... |
I saw her wince, I saw her cry, I saw the glory in her eye; Myself I longed for love and light, But must it come so cruel and oh so bright? | »Slušah joj krik i jecaj slave, posljednji hroptaj smrtne strave, zar morah čežnju svojih tama, uz cjelov vratit vrelom srcu plama...« |