Anton Leopold – Čik

	Anton Leopold – Butt
Netko zgasi cigaretu, Na tla spusti čik. Za njim gazi, željno gleda, Pognut škur človik. On se prigne, štučak zdigne, – Nij ga sram pri tom. Bit će hrpica duhana, Koga skuplja on. Sada uzmi to na znanje. Dar zna pružiti tlo: Žeravicu, dim plavucki… Pobrat to nij zlo!	Somebody takes the last puff of his cigarette And drops the stub on the ground. A ragged man who has been following him, Looks at it intently. He stoops down to pick it up With no inhibitions. It‘s another bit of tobacco To be collected. This proves that something useful Can be found in the street. There’s nothing wrong in picking up A stubb that’s still lit.

Ptići i slavuji, 1983, str. 36-37

Augustin Blazović – Stari cimbal

Augustin Blazović – Old Cymbalon

Stari cimbal, još prije neg te bacu u smetlje, zasviraj pjesmu na žica svoji! Zasviraj pjesmu ditinstva moga, pjesmu, kom je nekad djed moj ispjevao zaručnji svojoj svadbenu pjesmu. Stari cimbal, grbavi batac ludo pleše po tebi. Bunu se žice, trza je, tuče je sudbina smrti. Stari cimbal, zasviraj mladim na svadbu, zasviraj sebi na karmine, njim na veselje. Stari cimbal, zasviraj još jednom, onda zauvijek zašuti med smetljem u smrti.

Old Cymbalon, one more song should sound on your strings before you’re thrown away. The song of my childhood should sound on you. the song my ancestor sang to his bride on their wedding day. Old Cymbalion, the crooked bobbin dances crazily above you. Your strings are distraught at being plucked by immanent death. Old Cymbalon, play the joyous wedding dance of the young and play for your burial banquet. Old Cymbalon, play once more and then be silent forever in the decay of death.

Ptići i slavuji, 1983, str. 40-41

Augustin Blazović – Stari cimbal

Stari cimbal,

još prije neg te bacu u smetlje,

zasviraj pjesmu na žica svoji!

Zasviraj pjesmu ditinstva moga,

pjesmu, kom je nekad

djed moj ispjevao

zaručnji svojoj svadbenu pjesmu.

Stari cimbal,

grbavi batac

ludo pleše po tebi.

Bunu se žice,

trza je, tuče je

sudbina smrti.

Stari cimbal,

zasviraj mladim na svadbu,

zasviraj sebi na karmine,

njim na veselje.

Stari cimbal,

zasviraj još jednom,

onda zauvijek zašuti

med smetljem u smrti.

Augustin Blazović – Old Cymbalon

Old Cymbalon,

one more song should sound on your strings

before you’re thrown away.

The song of my childhood should sound on you.

the song my ancestor

sang to his bride

on their wedding day.

Old Cymbalion,

the crooked bobbin

dances crazily above you.

Your strings are distraught

at being plucked

by immanent death.

Old Cymbalon,

play the joyous wedding dance oft he young

and play for your burial banquet.

Old Cymbalon,

play once more

and then be silent forever

in the decay of death.

Davor Radolfi – Tajna ljubavi

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pfs8PHcJNJI

Davor Radolfi – Tajna ljubavi, Cinematix Studios Produkcija, 2012
Directed And Cinematography By Dario Godič
Editing And Color Correction By Marko Jurić

Možda nikad nećeš znati

da sam tvoj i da si moja

tvoj me pogled stalno prati

ti si plavo mojih boja

Možda nikad nećeš znati

da nas prsten sudbe veže

tvoj me pogled stalno prati

dok nam život plete mreže

Ref.

Moja tajna ljubavi

nitko neće saznati

da si moje jedino

da si moje skriveno

Dok nas divlja ljubav vreba

k’o sve miljenike neba

ja te volim ispod tiha

ti si dio moga stiha

Ref.

http://tekstovi.net/2,186,18539.html

kor: IR

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MLi1fB4CT7c

Koncertna dvorana Vatroslav Lisinski, prosinac 1997.
Koncert povodom 50. rođendana i 30. godišnjice umjetničkog rada
Glazba/tekst:
Miroslav Stanić Jimmy / Dragan Lukić Luky

ALBUM: VRIME, CROATIA RECORDS, 1995.

Augustin Blazović – Ne gataj mi smrti

Augustin Blazović – Don‘t announce dead to me

Črni gavrani guču u lugu, sove čuču u noći ter ti hahuču da moraš umrit. Črne ti vile paučinu pletu, nad Črnom vodom pogubnu mrižu za tužnu mrtvačku škrinju, za grob. Zlobni ti proroki gataju: Sutra ćeš morat umrit. Lažni prijatelji, vuki u koži ovčinjoj nudu ti smrt. I već si obliven od ledenog pota, srce ti drhće od smrtnoga straha, jer ti već nazlobno sviraju za zadnji ples i za smrt. A ti se skoči!!! Stresi sa sebe okove straha, odbij gatanje lažnog gatara, probudi sve snage duha i srca, zasviraj, zapjevaj svadbenu pjesmu novog života! Nismo još mrtvi! Neka nas nigdo ne riva u grob!

In the woods at night ravens caw and owls hoat your death to you. Dark fairies weave a net, a destructive net over a black pond, for a bier, for a grave. False prophets prophesy annihilation: Tomorrow you will die. False friends, wolves in sheep‘s clothing, try to lure you toward death. You’re bathed in icy sweat, your heart races in the fear of death, for the malicious music of the last dance is being played for you. Jump up!!! Shake the chains from you, reject the lies of the false prophets, revive the powers of the spirit and heart in yourself and play and sing the wedding song of a new life! We are not dead yet! We will not let anyone push us into the grave.

Ptići i slavuji, 1983, str. 42-43

Augustin Blazović – Ne gataj mi smrti

Črni gavrani guču u lugu,

sove čuču u noći ter ti hahuču

da moraš umrit.

Črne ti vile paučinu pletu,

nad Črnom vodom pogubnu mrižu

za tužnu mrtvačku škrinju,

za grob.

Zlobni ti proroki gataju:

Sutra ćeš morat umrit.

Lažni prijatelji, vuki u koži ovčinjoj

nudu ti smrt.

I već si obliven od ledenog pota,

srce ti drhće od smrtnoga straha,

jer ti već nazlobno sviraju

za zadnji ples i za smrt.

A ti se skoči!!!

Stresi sa sebe okove straha,

odbij gatanje lažnog gatara,

probudi sve snage duha i srca,

zasviraj, zapjevaj

svadbenu pjesmu novog života!

Nismo još mrtvi!

Neka nas nigdo

ne riva u grob!

Augustin Blazović – Don‘t announce dead to me 

In the woods at night

ravens caw and owls hoat

your death to you.

Dark fairies weave a net,

a destructive net over a black pond,

for a bier,

for a grave.

False prophets prophesy annihilation:

Tomorrow you will die.

False friends, wolves in sheep‘s clothing,

try to lure you toward death.

You’re bathed in icy sweat,

your heart races in the fear of death,

for the malicious music

of the last dance is being played for you.

Jump up!!!

Shake the chains from you,

reject the lies of the false prophets,

revive the powers of the spirit and heart in yourself

and play and sing the wedding song of a new life!

We are not dead yet!

We will not let anyone

push us into the grave.

Augustin Blazović – U Kronosa smrtnom zagrljaju

Augustin Blazović – In Cronos’ deadly embrace

Moja je duša udova tužna. Svaki joj časak sine i kćere, misli i želje nemili Kronos krade u grob. S Hadesa stigne, kosturnu ruku drži na mojoj kucavici-žili i kao suprug nježno se mili, oplodi dušu; u njoj se rode misli i čežnje. A on u istom trenutku krene kraj zmijama ovitu glavu i krvavim ustama ždere jedva rodjenu dječicu svoju. A moja duša ostaje udova tužna Sine i kćere, misli i čežnje joj nemili suprug poždrljiv Kronos krade u grob.

My soul is like that of an unhappy widow. Every moment Cronos mercilessly abducts sons and daughters, thoughts and wishes, into the grave. He emerges from Hades, takes my pulse with his bony hand and caresses my arm like a loving husband. He fertilizes the soul and engenders it with thoughts and desires. At the same time he turns his snake-crowned head and devours his newly-born children with his bloody maw. And my soul remains an unhappy widow whose sons and daughters, thoughts and wishes, are abducted by rapacious Cronos, her merciless husband, into the grave.

Ptići i slavuji, 1983, str. 44-45

Augustin Blazović – U kronosa smrtnom zagrljaju

Moja je duša

udova tužna.

Svaki joj časak

sine i kćere,

misli i želje

nemili Kronos

krade u grob.

S Hadesa stigne,

kosturnu ruku drži

na mojoj kucavici-žili

i kao suprug nježno se mili,

oplodi dušu;

u njoj se rode

misli i čežnje.

A on u istom trenutku krene kraj

zmijama ovitu glavu

i krvavim ustama ždere

jedva rodjenu dječicu svoju.

A moja duša

ostaje udova tužna

Sine i kćere,

misli i čežnje

joj nemili suprug

poždrljiv Kronos

krade u grob.

Augustin Blazović – In cronos‘ deadly embrace

My soul

is like that of an unhappy widow.

Every moment

Cronos mercilessly

abducts sons and daughters,

thoughts and wishes,

into the grave.

He emerges from Hades,

takes my pulse with his bony hand

and caresses my arm like a loving husband.

He fertilizes the soul

and engenders it

with thoughts and desires.

At the same time

he turns his snake-crowned head

and devours his newly-born children

with his bloody maw.

And my soul remains

an unhappy widow

whose sons and daughters,

thoughts and wishes,

are abducted by rapacious Cronos,

her merciless husband,

into the grave.

Augustin Blazović – Picasso-slika jednog života

Augustin Blazović – A life – As if painted by Picasso

U jednom uglu zelen nos i modro   oko, u kojem biva smijeh i plač. Clown-glava sjedi pokraj noga i preko ruba slike visi crna kosa. U drugom uglu iza srca samoga sebe motri dvojeć drugo oko. Osnivač Reda kao da je mrtav, besmislen nered vlada svuda, u njem nemoćan smijeh i plač i strah. Oj nered, plač i strah! Ciničan, drzak smijeh! Sotonska laž! Ili je samo hroma lijenost jalova mati straha i nereda? Je samo razum umro, dok se život kao kolut zmije bez glave glupo oko duše u zadnjim trzajima ovija?

A green nose and a blue eye in a corner in which laughter and weeping live. The clown’s head lies near his legs and black hair hangs above the frame. In the other corner behind the heart the other eye sceptically contemplates itself. It is as if the Creator of the cosmos were dead. Chaos and confusion reign everywhere, encompassing hysterical laughter, weeping and fear. O chaos, tears and fear! Cynical, impudent laughter! Demonic, lie! Or is it only lame sluggishness, barren mother of fear, of disorder? Has prudence become defunct while life is in its death throes in the embrace of a headless snake which giddily encircles the senses.

Ptići i slavuji, 1983, str. 46-47

Augustin Blazović – Picasso-slika jednog života

U jednom uglu zelen nos i modro oko,

u kojem biva smijeh i plač.

Clown-glava sjedi pokraj noga

i preko ruba slike visi crna kosa.

U drugom uglu iza srca

samoga sebe motri dvojeć drugo oko.

Osnivač Reda kao da je mrtav,

besmislen nered vlada svuda,

u njem nemoćan smijeh i plač i strah.

Oj nered, plač i strah!

Ciničan, drzak smijeh!

Sotonska laž!

Ili je samo hroma lijenost

jalova mati straha i nereda?

Je samo razum umro,

dok se život

kao kolut zmije

bez glave glupo oko duše

u zadnjim trzajima ovija?

Augustin Blazović – A life – As if painted by Picasso

A green nose and a blue eye in a corner

in which laughter and weeping live.

The clown’s head lies near his legs

and black hair hangs above the frame.

In the other corner behind the heart

the other eye sceptically contemplates itself.

It is as if the Creator of the cosmos were dead.

Chaos and confusion reign everywhere,

encompassing hysterical laughter, weeping and fear.

O chaos, tears and fear!

Cynical, impudent laughter!

Demonic lie!

Or is it only lame sluggishness,

barren mother of fear, of disorder?

Has prudence become defunct

while life is in its death throes

in the embrace of a headless snake

which giddily encircles the senses.

Augustin Blazović – Van iz prostora

	Augustin Blazović – Beyond the borders
Sjever i jug, istok i zapad, jeste li vi četire strane svita? Je sve ča postoji, u ov zatvor postavno? Ja hoću probiti te zidi, ja hoću zajahati na sunčane trake i van letiti, letiti iz granic prostora. Ne dam se, ne dam se zatvorit u grob.	North and south, east and west, are you the four borders of the world? Is everything that exists confined in this prison? I want to break through these walls, I want to ride on the rays of the sun and fly out beyond the borders of space. I refuse, I refuse to be imprisoned in a grave.

Ptići i slavuji, 1983, str. 48-49

Soči, Sulz i Šeškut

Soči, snowboardanje i Sulz

Soči u Rusiji 2014. ljeta organizira Zimske olimpijske igre

Sportaši se boru za medalje u 98 disciplinov

Slalom snowboardom vozi Gradišćanka Julia Dujmovits

Sulz u blizini Novoga Grada je u centru pažnje

Sretno je cijelo Gradišće zbog prve olimpijske medalje

Sada i u snowboardanju Austrija ima zlatu medalju

Schild je posrebrena, najmladja pozlaćena slalomašica je Amerikanka Šifrin

Slalom kod muži najbrže vozi najstariji, Matt, a za njim fantastičan Hirscher, ki veli:

Spasio mi je utrku Ante Kostelić, ki je priredio tešku slalomsku stazu

Soli je u snigu, a još već ga je i u bliskom morju

Subota donese pet medaljov za Austriju – tu felix Austria …

Senzacionalno!

A ki zna da je Sulz i Šeškut, nekada hrvatsko selo?

I da je onde rodjen Petar Jandrisevits!

Živjeli naši Dujmovići i Jandriševići!

 

http://de.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sulz_im_Burgenland (22.2.2014.)

http://volksgruppenv1.orf.at/hrvati/okolonaokolo/stories/48007.html

 

http://burgenland.orf.at/news/stories/2632557/ (22.2.2014.)

http://burgenland.orf.at/news/stories/2632524/

http://burgenland.orf.at/news/stories/2632513/

Augustin Blazović – Jug

Augustin Blazović – The south

U mojoj krvi klije žega juga, Sva gola strast Dinarske planine, Jadrana plavog tajne dubine, U mojoj duši bdije čežnja juga. U mojoj krvi klije borba juga, U kojoj seljak mučno reže brazdu, U kojoj mati rodi djecu hrabru, U kojoj biju moji predji Turka. U mojoj krvi svira radost juga, U pjesmama, u ritmu burnog plesa, Kad kolo gazi divlja mlada četa. U mojoj duši cvate mladost juga, U njoj se grli veselja i tuga Ko sunčan jug i sudbina Slavena.

The heat of the South smoulders in my blood, As does the weight of the Dinaric Mountains, And the mysterious depths of the Adriatic Sea. My soul is filled with a longing for the South. The battle for the South glows in the blood, Where peasants painstakingly plow furrows, Mothers give birth to heroic children And my forefathers battled the Turks. The joy of the South plays in my blood, It plays songs, rhythms, wild dances And the young stamp their feet to the kolo. The youth of the South blossoms in my soul, Joy and sadness embrace in it Like the Southern sun and the fate of the Slavs. kolo = roundalay

Ptići i slavuji, 1983, str. 50-51

ko > Ko (kot, kao)

Jug – Augustin Blazović

U mojoj krvi klije žega juga,

Sva gola strast Dinarske planine,

Jadrana plavog tajne dubine,

U mojoj duši bdije čežnja juga.

U mojoj krvi klije borba juga,

U kojoj seljak mučno reže brazdu,

U kojoj mati rodi djecu hrabru,

U kojoj biju moji predji Turka.

U mojoj krvi svira radost juga,

U pjesmama, u ritmu burnog plesa,

Kad kolo gazi divlja mlada četa.

U mojoj duši cvate mladost juga,

U njoj se grli veselja i tuga

Ko sunčan jug i sudbina Slavena.

The South – Augustin Blazović

The heat of the South smoulders in my blood,

As does the weight of the Dinaric Mountains

And the mysterious depths of the Adriatic Sea.

My soul is filled with a longing for the South.

The battle for the South glows in the blood,

Where peasants painstakingly plow furrows,

Mothers give birth to heroic children

And my forefathers battled the Turks.

The joy of the South plays in my blood,

It plays songs, rhythms, wild dances

And the young stamp their feet to the kolo.

The youth of the South blossoms in my soul,

Joy and sadness embrace in it

Like the Southern sun and the fate of the Slavs.

kolo = roundalay

Augustin Blazović – Agava

Augustin Blazović – Agave

Samo jedanput cvate agava. Svadbeno digne k zaručniku suncu vitke grane, na kojim opažaš skromnog cvijeta zelenu krunu kao života svečanu žrtvu. Tada u miru umire tiha, možda uza to slatko sanjari u dugim jesenskim noćima hladnim o sretnim i vrućim čežnjama mladim i srca bolnim ranama davnim. Samo jedno proljeće ima, jedan svibanj i jednu Ivanjsku noć, jednu žetvu i berbu čovječji život. Zatim slijedi starost i zima, gole grane, smrt i grobna tišina. Ali na grob moj sadite cvijeće, u tminu nažgite drobne svijeće! cvjetovi uvenu, svijeća dogori, no i u smrtu jedno govori: proljeće jednom vječno će doći.

The agave blooms only once. It raises itself toward the sun like a bride. On its slender stalks the green crowns of buds seem to glow for a festive  sacrifice. Then it peacefully dies. Perhaps it dreams rapturously in the long, cool autumn nights of joy, passion, youthfoul longing and of the old, painful wounds of the heart. There is only one spring in life, only one May and one Midsummer Night, only one harvest and one vintage, then the greyness of winter and old age, bare branches, death and the silence of the grave. Plant flowers on my grave and light small candles in the darkness. Flowers wilt, candles burn out, but even when dead they announce that eternal spring will come one day.

Ptići i slavuji, 1983, str. 52-53

 

Augustin Blazović – Agava

Samo jedanput cvate agava.

Svadbeno digne k zaručniku suncu

vitke grane, na kojim opažaš

skromnog cvijeta zelenu krunu

kao života svečanu žrtvu.

Tada u miru umire tiha,

možda uza to slatko sanjari

u dugim jesenskim noćima hladnim

o sretnim i vrućim čežnjama mladim

i srca bolnim ranama davnim.

Samo jedno proljeće ima,

jedan svibanj i jednu Ivanjsku noć,

jednu žetvu i berbu čovječji život.

Zatim slijedi starost i zima,

gole grane, smrt i grobna tišina.

Ali na grob moj sadite cvijeće,

u tminu nažgite drobne svijeće!

cvjetovi uvenu, svijeća dogori,

no i u smrtu jedno govori:

proljeće jednom vječno će doći.

Augustin Blazović – Agave

The agave blooms only once.

It raises itself toward the sun like a bride.

On its slender stalks the green crowns of buds

seem to glow for a festive sacrifice.

 

Then it peacefully dies.

Perhaps it dreams rapturously

in the long, cool autumn nights

of joy, passion, youthfoul longing

and of the old, painful wounds of the heart.

There is only one spring in life,

only one May and one Midsummer Night,

only one harvest and one vintage,

then the greyness of winter and old age,

bare branches, death and the silence of the grave.

Plant flowers on my grave

and light small candles in the darkness.

Flowers wilt, candles burn out,

but even when dead they announce

that eternal spring will come one day.