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A song for my friends:
LOOK INSIDE ME
I‚m open for you to look inside me
and see everything that is there.
And if you do take a look you‚ll be surprised
for you‚ll find your own self there.
Come and look inside my head ö
you‚ll find a part of your own thoughts there.
Come and look inside my heart ö
you will find a part of your own feelings there.
I‚m not closed all of the time,
I sometimes open for other people too,
But they cannot find anything nor see ö
For they are not in me.
I‚m open for you to look inside me...
This is a song I wrote some twenty years ago.
OVER THERE (Album: DA SAM BAREM GUSKA/OVER
THERE)
American folk song
Oh! potatoes they grow small
Over there!
Oh! potatoes they grow small
õCause they plant õem in the fall,
And then eats õem tops and all
Over there!
Oh! the candles they are small
Over there!
Oh! the candles they are small
For they dips õem lean and tall
And then burn them sticks and all
Over there!
Oh! they make their clam pie
Over there!
Oh! they bake their clam pie
And the crust is made of rye
You must eat it, or must die
Over there!
Oh! I wish I was a geese,
All forlorn!
Oh! I wish I was a geese,
õCause they lives and dies in peace,
And accumulates much grease
Eating corn!
TIMES OF SORROW
(Album: DA SAM BAREM GUSKA/OVER THERE)
The times they are of sadness, sorrow and good-byes.
What will come tomorrow? Only tears and sighs.
õTwas the month of August, on it‚s second day
When I had to leave my sweetheart forced to go away.
The year was 1914; perhaps you do not know,
When my dear old mother had to see me go.
At the hour of midnight we were on our way,
And as the train was leaving, the band began to play.
Voices of our loved ones shouted: „Farewell, sons,
Be true to your homeland when you use your guns.ä
At the Russian border we got off the train
Our entire dearest loved ones ne‚er to see again.
Moans I heard quite near : „Come my wounds to tie,
Come and sit beside me, I feel I shall die.ä
I went to be near him and to help him rise,
But his life just faded before my very eyes.
One falls down beside me, the next one over there
Shall we see the sunrise, no-one seems to care.
Shall I see the sunrise, no-one seems to care.
This is my translation of a Medjimurean folk song telling about the tragic fate of a young man who had to fight in Russia during the First World War, leaving behind his loved ones and his country.
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