Joan of Arc

Leonard Cohen

Originale	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...«