Lyrics and translation Ismael Serrano - El Vals de los Jubilados

El Vals de los Jubilados

Se levanta muy temprano
Con todo el día por delante.
Y da vueltas por la casa,
Estorbando en todas partes.
Se anuda al fin la corbata,
En tiempos tan elegante.
Lo mismito que un pincel
El viejo se echa a la calle.

Con el pan debajo el brazo
Visita todos los bares.
Tomás, ponnos unos tintos
Que invito a las amistades.
A voces arregla el mundo
Y a voces, aunque se pase,
Pontifica de los toros,
De la liga y del cante.

"Si las cosas, ya le digo,
Soplaran con otros aires,
Y aquella maldita guerra
Como acabó no acabase,
Ni aquí estaría yo ahora,
Ni usted. Y lo más probable
Es que la tortilla misma
La vuelta tendría que darse".

Y suspira con nostalgia
De aquel que todo lo sabe.
Y una mirada a esa niña,
Que la edad no mata el hambre.
Hoy es día veintiocho
Y la pensión viene tarde.
"A los viejos, ya le digo,
Lo bailao no nos quita nadie".

Con un vinito en el cuerpo
El viejo a su casa se abre.
Ella lo espera en la puerta.
"Menudo cuerpo me traes".
Comen los dos en silencio.
De vez en cuando una frase
Rompe las cuatro paredes.
"¿Decías algo?¿Me hablaste?".

Son tantos años de oírse
Que no saben escucharse.
"¿Sabes algo de los chicos?"
"El mayor llamó ayer tarde".
Pasan el tiempo en silencio.
Después de comer no salen.
Luego cenan y ven tele
Un ratito y a acostarse.

Si las cosas, es verdad,
Soplaran con otros aires.
Si la sombra del olvido
Con el tiempo no arrastrase
Recuerdos que en este otoño
Dejan huérfano el paisaje,
Otro gallo cantaría,
Quizá no sería tan tarde.

Y suspira con nostalgia
De aquel que todo lo sabe.
Y una mirada a esa niña,
Que la edad no mata el hambre.
Hoy es día veintiocho
Y la pensión viene tarde
A los viejos, ya le digo,
Lo bailao no nos quita nadie.

The Waltz of the Retired Ones

He gets up very early,
With the whole day to spare.
He walks around the house,
In the way everywhere.
Finally, he knots his tie,
Once so elegant in life.
Just like a brush,
The old man goes out into the street.

With the bread under his arm,
He visits all the bars.
Tomás, bring us some wine,
On me, my friends.
With his loud voice he fixes the world,
And with his loud voice, no matter what,
He speaks his mind about bullfights,
Soccer and singing.

"If things, I tell you,
Were going differently,
And that cursed war
Never ended,
Neither you nor I,
Would be here now.
And most likely
The tables would have been turned".

And he sighs with nostalgia
Of one who knows everything.
And a glance at that girl,
Who hunger age does not erase.
Today is the 28th
And the pension is late again.
"The achievements of the elderly, I tell you,
No one can take away".

With a touch of wine in his body,
The old man goes home.
She waits for him at the door.
"What a body you bring me".
The two of them eat in silence.
From time to time a phrase
Breaks the silence.
"Were you saying something? Were you talking to me?".

So many years of hearing each other,
They no longer know how to listen.
"Do you know anything about the children?"
"The oldest called yesterday afternoon".
They spend their time in silence.
They don't go out after eating.
Later they have dinner and watch some TV.
And then it’s bedtime.

If things were different,
And the winds of change did blow,
If the shadow of oblivion
Didn’t linger in time,
Memories that in this fall
Leave the landscape orphaned,
Things would be different,
Perhaps it wouldn't be too late.

And he sighs with nostalgia
Of one who knows everything.
And a glance at that girl,
Who hunger age does not erase.
Today is the 28th
And the pension is late again.
"The achievements of the elderly, I tell you,
No one can take away".