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Poetry with a tune: "Translation of Lyrics" » English to Serbian

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Composite "best" translation in English to Serbian

Entries submitted in this pair were rated on a per-segment basis. Shown below is a "composite translation" constructed from the top-rated translations for each segment. Click any source or target segment to see more details.

Sunday Mornin' Comin' Down

Well, I woke up Sunday morning
With no way to hold my head that didn't hurt.
And the beer I had for breakfast wasn't bad,
So I had one more for dessert.

Then I fumbled in my closet through my clothes
And found my cleanest dirty shirt.
Then I washed my face and combed my hair
And stumbled down the stairs to meet the day.


I'd smoked my mind the night before
With cigarettes and songs I'd been picking.
But I lit my first and watched a small kid
Playing with a can that he was kicking.

Then I walked across the street
And caught the Sunday smell of someone's frying chicken.
And Lord, it took me back to something that I'd lost
Somewhere, somehow along the way.


On a Sunday morning sidewalk,
I'm wishing, Lord, that I was stoned.
'Cause there's something in a Sunday
That makes a body feel alone.

And there's nothing short a' dying
That's half as lonesome as the sound
Of the sleeping city sidewalk
And Sunday morning coming down.


In the park I saw a daddy
With a laughing little girl that he was swinging.
And I stopped beside a Sunday school
And listened to the songs they were singing.

Then I headed down the street,
And somewhere far away a lonely bell was ringing,
And it echoed through the canyon
Like the disappearing dreams of yesterday.


On a Sunday morning sidewalk,
I'm wishing, Lord, that I was stoned.
'Cause there's something in a Sunday
That makes a body feel alone.

And there's nothing short a' dying
That's half as lonesome as the sound
Of the sleeping city sidewalk
And Sunday morning coming down.
Mamurluk nedeljom ujutru

Probudio sam se u nedeljno jutro,
beznadežno mamurne glave.
I pivo koje sam doručkovao mi je leglo,
pa sam uzeo još jedno da zasladim.

Онда сам испретурао свој ормар,
Нашао најчистију прљаву кошуљу,
Умио се и очешљао
Па одтетурао низ степенице у сусрет дану.


Претходне ноћи сам спржио мозак
Цигаретама и бираним песмама
Али сам запалио прву јутарњу и гледао
Неког клинца како у игри шутира конзерву.

Potom pređoh ulicu
i uhvatih nedeljni miris nečije pržene piletine.
I, moj Bože, to me odvede nazad u nešto što
izgubih negde, nekako usput.


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