Čovek u čizmama ide bez glasa,
blato mu ljubi đonove stare.
Svet ga ne vidi, svet mu ne kaže
ni gde je put, ni gde su pare.
The man in boots walks without a sound,
mud kisses his old soles.
The world does not see him, the world does not tell him
neither where is the road, nor where are the money.
Kiše su prošle, a putevi vlažni,
koraci teški kao sećanja siva.
The rains have passed and the roads are wet,
steps heavy as memories gray
Ko zna gde beše, ko zna gde stiže,
i šta mu duša pod đonovima skriva?
Who knows where he's been, who knows where he's going,
and what does his soul hide under his soles?
Možda je ratnik, možda je skitnica,
možda tek neko što traži dom.
Maybe he's a warrior, maybe he's a rogue,maybe just someone looking for a home...
Možda su priče u brazdama čizama
sve što je ostalo od sveta tog.
Maybe the stories are in the furrows of the boots
all that is left of that world.
Korača dalje, kroz polja i gradove,
ne traži ništa, a gubi sve.
Jer čovek u čizmama nije od onih
što ikada staju da pitaju „gde?“
He steps on, through fields and cities,
ask for nothing and lose everything.
Because the man in the boots is not one of those
that they ever stop to ask "where?"
Pozdrav od Anke vragolanke.
Greetings from Anka vregolana!