Kišna Dova with translation

This is one of my favorite songs by Burhan Šaban.  Thanks to Samaha and the folks at Word Reference Forums for help with the translation!  A bit of background info:  Burhan Šaban was born in Skopje, Macedonia, that’s why he refers to it in the first verse.  I am working on translating his biography from his myspace page; insha’Allah I’ll post part or all of it later.

Kišna Dova

 

Ja nisam plakao od svoje trin’este

Pred jednom džamijom sred skopske čaršije

Muškarci ne plaču mati tad rekla je

Muškarci nemaju sad pravo na suze

 

Bože sad molim te da nebo sive halje odjene

Nad Saraj’vom neka poteku česme nebeske

Želim da sakrijem svoju tugu I suze

Neka me kiše isprate od stanice do ponad čaršije

 

Ref.

Hoću da moja tuga samo meni pripada

Da skrijem suze od dosta i od dušmana

Da mogu kazati da se na moje lice izlila

Kiša sa kupola svih sarajevskih džamija

 

Bože daj da me pokriva nebeska zavjesa

Da neko ne vidi kako mi tuga lice pohodi

A ja ću kazati da su slabe strehe i oluci

Jer sam se skrivao u sarajevskoj mahali

 

Na svoju tugu samo imam pravo ja

Ona od tuđih nije veća ni slabija

Muškarci ne plaču, znam iz djetinjstva

Za me je kiša milost Božija

Milost je danas kiša iznad Sarajeva.

 

Rain Prayer

 

I haven’t cried since I was thirteen

In front of a mosque in Skopje’s city center

Men don’t cry, my mother told me then

Men no longer have the right to tears.

 

Oh God, I beg you, that the heavens clothe themselves in grey

Upon Sarajevo let the celestial fountains flow

I wish to hide my sorrow and tears

Let rain wash me from the station to above the center

 

Ref:

I want that my sadness should belong to me alone,

To hide my tears from friend and foe

To be able to say that what flows over my face

Is rain from the dome of Sarajevo’s mosque

 

Oh God, let a heavenly curtain shield me

So that no one sees how sorrow haunts my face

And I will say that the eaves and gutters are frail

For I am hidden in a Sarajevo neighborhood

 

To my own sadness only I have a right

She is from others’ (sadness) neither harder nor easier

Men don’t cry, this I’ve known since childhood

For me the rain is a mercy from God

Mercy that for today is rain over Sarajevo.