Ciganin hvali svoga konja

Gledaš, je li, moga konja,

Gospodaru stari?

Ne znaš je li konj il' ptica

Lastavica?

Skidaj naočari -

Ne možeš se nagledati,

Već hajde pazari!

Ti još pitaš za Putalja

Da li valja!

Nemaj brige!

Da ne valja, ne bi bio

On kod Cige,

Ne možeš ga u carevoj

Naći štali -

Samo Ciga što ne ume

Da ga hvali.

Da ga pospe suvim zlatom

Ko ne štedi,

Još i onda jedan dukat

Više vredi.

Ako imaš, jede seno,

zob i slamu,

Ako nemaš, on ne ište,

Ne treba mu.

Nemoj da mu gledaš zube,

Moj golube,

Ni ja mu ih nisam gledo,

Nemoj ni ti -

Taj ne može ostariti.

- Što ga duže teraš, kume,

Sve je mlađi,

Pa de sad mu

Para nađi!

A što pitaš: hoće l' moći

Kakav jendek da preskoči,

Jendek, jendek - kakav jendek!

Taj se nije još rodio

Koj' on nije preskočio -

Preskoči ga tako lako

Kao da je pile neko,

I to uzduž, ne popreko.

[...]

The Gipsy Praises His Horse

You're admiring my horse, sir, I see.

He's so light that you 'd think it 's a bird

Say a swallow. Ah me!

He's a prize!

It's absurd

To suppose you can take him all in as he passes

With the best pair of eyes,

Or the powerful aid

Of your best pair of glasses :

Take 'em off, and let's trade.

What! "Is Selim as good as he seems?"

Never fear,

Uncle dear,

He's as good as the best of your dreams,

And as sound as your sleep.

It's only that kind that a gipsy would keep.

The emperor's stables can't furnish his mate.

But his grit and his gait,

And his wind and his ways,

A gipsy like me doesn't know how to praise.

But (if truth must be told)

Although you should cover him over with gold

He'd be worth one more sovereign still.

"Is he old?"

Oh, don't look at his teeth, my dear sir!

I never have seen 'em myself.

Age has nothing to do with an elf;

So it's fair to infer

My fairy can never grow old.

Oh, don't look (Here, my friend,

Will you do me the kindness to hold

For a moment these reins while I 'tend

To that fly on his shanks?)...

As I said (Ah now thanks!)

The longer you drive

The better he'11 thrive.

He'11 never be laid on the shelf!

The older that colt is, the younger he'11 grow.

I've tried him for years, and I know.

"Eat? Eat?" do you say?

Oh, that nag isn't nice

About eating! Whatever you have will suffice.

He takes everything raw

Some oats or some hay,

Or a small wisp of straw,

If you have it. If not, never mind

Selim won't even neigh.

What kind of a feeder is he? That's the kind!

"Is he clever at jumping a fence?"

What a question to ask! He's immense

At a leap!

How absurd!

Why, the trouble's to keep

Such a Pegasus down to the ground.

He takes every fence at a bound

With the grace of a bird;

And so great is his strength,

And so keen is his sense,

He goes over a fence

Not across, but the way of its length!

"Under saddle?" No saddle for Selim!

Why, you've only to mount him, and feel him

Fly level and steady, to see

What disgrace that would be.

No, you couldn't more deeply insult him, unless

You attempted to guess

And pry into his pedigree.

Now why should you speak of his eyes?

Does he seem like a horse that would need

An eye-glass to add to his speed

Or, perchance, to look wise?

No indeed.

Why, not only's the night to that steed

Just the same as the day,

But he knows all that passes

Both before and behind, either way.

Oh, he doesn't need glasses!

"Has he any defect?" What a question, my friend!

That is why, my dear sir, I am willing to sell.

You know very well

It is only the horse that you give or you lend

That has glanders, or springhalt, or something to mend:

'T is because not a breath

Of defect or of death

Can be found on my Selim that he's at your pleasure.

Alas! not for gipsies the care of such treasure.

And now about speed. "Is he fast?" I should say!

Just listen I'11 tell you.

One equinox day,

Coming home from Erdout in the usual way,

A terrible storm overtook us. 'T was plain

There was nothing to do but to run for it. Rain,

Like the blackness of night, gave us chase. But that nag,

Though he'd had a hard day, didn't tremble or sag.

Then the lightning would flash,

And the thunder would crash

With a terrible din.

They were eager to catch him; but he would just neigh,

Squint back to make sure, and then gallop away.

Well, this made the storm the more furious yet,

And we raced and we raced, but he was n't upset,

And he wouldn't give in!

At last when we got to the foot of the hill

At the end of the trail,

By the stream where our white gipsy castle was set,

And the boys from the camp came a-waving their caps,

At a word he stood still,

To be hugged by the girls and be praised by the chaps.

We had beaten the gale,

And Selim was dry as a bone well, perhaps,

Just a little bit damp on the tip of his tail.*

(Translated by Nikola Tesla and Robert Underwood Johnson)

[Tesla's note: * Readers will be reminded by this conclusion of Mark Twain's story of the fast horse as told to him by Oudinot, of the Sandwich Islands, and recorded in " The Galaxy " for April, 1871. In that veracious narrative it is related that not a single drop fell on the driver, but the dog was swimming behind the wagon all the way.]

[...]

Ja ga jašem bez sedla -

Sedlasta mu leđa.

- Za pasoš ga ne pitaj,

Jer - to njega vređa.

Idi, kume, idi, idi -

Još me pitaš: kako vidi?

To je da se pripoveda:

Vidi ostrag ko i spreda,

Vidi noću ko na danu,

A na danu ko u noći -

Takve su mu oči.

A što pitaš, moj prijane,

Ima l' mane -

pa zato ga i prodajem,

Moj prijane,

Jerbo nema mane -

Takvi konji nisu za nas,

za Cigane.

A brzina kakva mu je?

Malko j' brži od oluje.

Sad ćeš čuti,

Kazaću ti:

Jednom sam se iz Erduta

Vraćo s puta.

Mada nas je pljusak vijo,

On se nije umorio.

Munja sevne, a on rže -

Pljusak brzo, a on brže;

Pljusak pišman na mog hata,

Pa ga hvata,

A Putalj ga preko gleda,

Pa se ne da.

Pljusak leti da polije -

Tek što nije!

Kad stigosmo pod šatora,

U ciganski dvorac lep,

Na mom konju sve je suvo,

Pokiso mu samo

- Rep.