He is not happy who has much, happy is he who needs little. Not that happiness can be bought with gold.

Andrija

Dino

He who has a lot is not happy, he is happy who needs little

Andrija Čordaš, an orphan from the second war,
a diminutive man, with bright eyes,
herds of pigs, the fire smolders,
Sava lakes and depth,
the great sky of Slavonia,
they have two dogs, two others,
it was not master and servant,
it was a sincere friendship.

People say he was young,
he loved the beautiful Slava,
and the disease took her early
like a lone wolf he hid his sorrow,
he didn't cry and drink for a beer,
only he knows how he found peace,
if you ask him why he lives like that,
why doesn't he acquire properties,
and he would say,
so let those who dream about it get rich.

Because he is not happy when he has a lot,
 happy is he who needs little,
not that happiness can be bought with gold,
all the treasures of the world are worth nothing,
 wretched is he whom the devil misleads,
so all his life he just saves a pile of ducats,
to hell with everything, when there is no peace in the soul.

With a dreamy blue village dawn,
 played the flute with a wide flute,
his song woke the street,
and all the bosses wanted him,
the pigs ate better with him,
who knows why, maybe they also lack goodness,
and he used to say, marva is marva,
 eats in thorns, sleeps in mud,
 but never gets dirty like a man.

Andra was on his own,
 talked about the world around the village,
 people like people, something always bothers people,
and he just lived as he wanted,
and he was happy with that little bit,
made jokes at the expense of sadness, at the expense of happiness,
 life is a road so choose where you will go,
but you grab in vain and you gain in vain,
 you won't take any of that with you when you go up there.

The years flew by, it's always like that,
so he also aged slowly,
and the flute was heard less and less early in the morning,
and it goes well, it goes bad,
the old alleys disappeared,
and he came, a stranger to him for a while,
 missing marva, missing boss,
forests and farms disappeared,
the last Čordaš also disappeared with them.

Andra died so quietly,
how do such people die,
without a lot of tears and sad lyrics,
the priest said only two or three words,
rest in peace, and he was bigger,
but one would say by appearance,
only Sava stopped for a moment,
only the willow lowered its branches,
people swear that dogs cried.

The best Croatian tambura players (ex Zlatni dukati)
 Composer: Mario Vestić
Text author: Mario Vestić
 Arranger: Denis Špegelj
 Album: Tamburica od javora suva (2004)

Do you have any stories about this person?

Read more stories

The story of Andrija Čordaš