Đorđe Balašević "Berba '59" lyrics

Translation to:enru

Berba '59

Kad pijem ne preterivam,nit volem nit preferiramal' mi se desiSvega se tako nakupipa tamburama mangupi,preprece put

Krenu duboki uzdasi,i plitke filozofijedo kraja onaj bicikli u svakoj strofi jepar bulki medju zaramai jedna "zorzet" marama

Tih dana sve se svodilona price dal' je rodilobolje neg' lane?Sretni su ljudi ratari,njima su neki atarinebo i svet

Bese to carska godina,prava se moba probralada ne bi jutra ta banda bi zvezde obralaA medju svim tim saramai bela "zorzet" marama

Sva vina sad su oporaBez slasti i bez otrovaU njima Istina je puna kleveteA pelin, tamjanika,Taj spokoj, ta panikaTek digod u berbi pedesetdevete

Geni su staro cokoceU meni slutnja cvokocepred svakom srecomVrag ume Boga spopastiPa casom grad upropastionol'ki trud

Kog casa prvog rampasana mladi mesec opijeTaj posle spadne na lose i gore kopijeAl sve se kupi paramaJedino ne Ta Marama

Sva vina sad su oporaBez slasti i bez otrovaU njima istina je puna kleveteA pelin, tamjanika,Taj spokoj, ta panikaTek digod u berbi pedesetdevete

Sva vina sad su oporaBez slasti i bez otrovaU njima istina je puna kleveteA pelin, tamjanika,Taj spokoj, ta panikaTek digod u berbi pedesetdevete

Teki digod u berbi te i teTek digod, ih

Harvest of '59

When I drink I don't overdo it,I don't love it or prefer it,But it happens.Everything gets harderAnd rowdies get on the wayWith their tamburitzas.

When deep breathsAnd shallow philosophies begin,In every stanza there is that bike,A few poppies among the nettlesAnd one crȇpe georgette scarf.

Those days every talkWas about abundance of harvest,And was it better than last year?Farmers are happy people,Their shires areHeaven and earth.

That was a royal year,Great men gathered to helpAnd if there was no dawn they would have harvested the tars,And among all those bootlegsOne white crȇpe georgette scarf.

All wines are now tart,Without venom and delightIn them. The truth is full of slanderAnd wormwood, muscadine,That peace, that panic,Just somewhere in the harvest of '59.

Genes are old vines,And in me the hunchBefore every happiness.Sometimes the Devil takes a hold of GodAnd in a minute hail undoesAll that effort.

Who is by young wineDrunk during young moon,That one will hit rock bottomBut all those can be boughtExcept that scarf

All wines are now tartWithout venom and delightIn them. The truth is full of slanderAnd wormwood, muscadine.That peace, that panic,Just somewhere in the harvest of '59.

All wines are now tartWithout venom and delightIn them. The truth is full of slanderAnd wormwood, muscadine.That peace, that panic,Just somewhere in the harvest of '59.

Just somewhere in one or two harvests,Just somewhere, ah.

Here one can find the English lyrics of the song Berba '59 by Đorđe Balašević. Or Berba '59 poem lyrics. Đorđe Balašević Berba '59 text in English. Also can be known by title Berba 59 (Đorđe Balasevic) text. This page also contains a translation, and Berba 59 meaning.