Paroles et traduction Javier Krahe - Capricho Estival

Capricho Estival

Con sus libros, con sus juegos,
Sus películas, sus vicios,
Sus amores, sus apegos
Y sus ritos veraniegos
Que exigían sacrificios
Hasta las claras del día,
Casi nunca se aburría.
O tocaba la guitarra
Y escribía en el cuaderno
Y si aquí rimaba en "arra"
Escogía una con garra,
Un acorde así, moderno,
Y una dulce melodía,
Y eso ya lo entretenía.
Y aún más si le salía.
Si salía era feliz
Para toda una semana,
Retocando algún matiz
O cantándole a su hermana
Lo que ya llevara hecho,
Que era un buen trecho
Si nadie le interrumpía.
Porque muy, muy a menudo
Iba a verlo algún amigo,
Y si aquí rimaba en "udo"
Se decía: cojonudo,
¿Qué hago ahora, lo maldigo
O le muestro mi alegría
Con un vaso de sangría?
Y los dos, vaso tras vaso,
Vaciábanse una jarra
Y le daban un repaso
Al triunfo y al fracaso,
Y, en su funda, la guitarra
Profundamente dormía.
Exhibir esa manía
Como que lo cohibía.
Luego, a solas otra vez,
Retomaba el roto hilo
De su trama, una memez,
Una cosa de este estilo,
Y poníase al acecho
De un nuevo trecho,
A su tarea volvía.
Y, de pronto, su vecina
Con un grupo de arquitectos
Le medían la cocina
O, de pronto, su sobrina,
La de párpados perfectos,
De Tenerife venía.
Y hasta luego, sinfonía.
Pero, en fin, sacaba ratos
Para palabras y acordes,
Y si aquí rimaba en "atos"
No decía: cuán ingratos,
Cuán bullicosos, cuán bordes.
O si sí, con ironía,
Que él a todos recibía
Y con suma cortesía.
Qué podía hacerle él
Si un amigo es un amigo,
Su vecina, Maribel,
Y su sobrina testigo
De que entraba por derecho
A un tercer trecho,
Pues con él lo recorría.
Aunque todo fuera adverso
Era el hombre muy paciente
Y, a la noche, estaba inmerso
En su trama y verso a verso
Avanzaba tercamente.
Casi, casi la tenía,
Pero el sueño lo vencía.
En su almohada a la cosa
Daba una y otra vuelta
Y, si aquí rimaba en "osa",
Se decía: anda, la osa,
Pero si ya está resuelta,
Solamente faltaría
Repasar esta armonía
Y un remate y ya estaría.
Y a las tantas, yo que sé,
Levantábase del lecho,
Daba sorbos a un café
Y, con este último trecho,
A su capricho estival
Punto final.
Justo cuando amanecía.

Summer Whim

With your books, with your games,
Your movies, your vices,
Your loves, your attachments
And your summer rituals
That demanded sacrifices
Until the break of dawn,
You were hardly ever bored.
You would play the guitar
And write in your notebook
And if here it rhymed with "arra"
You'd choose one with a claw,
A chord like this, modern,
And a sweet melody,
And that already entertained you.
And even more so if it came out well.
If it came out well, you were happy
For a whole week,
Retouching some nuance
Or singing to your sister
What you had already done,
Which was a good stretch
If no one interrupted you.
Because very, very often
A friend would come to see you,
And if here it rhymed with "udo"
You'd say: awesome,
What do I do now, do I curse him
Or show him my joy
With a glass of sangria?
And the two of you, glass after glass,
Would empty a pitcher
And give a review
To triumph and failure,
And, in its case, the guitar
Would sleep soundly.
To exhibit that mania
As if it inhibited you.
Then, alone again,
You would pick up the broken thread
Of your plot, a foolishness,
Something like this,
And you would lie in wait
For a new stretch,
You would return to your task.
And, suddenly, your neighbor
With a group of architects
Would measure your kitchen
Or, suddenly, your niece,
The one with perfect eyelids,
Would come from Tenerife.
And so long, symphony.
But, in the end, you would find time
For words and chords,
And if here it rhymed with "atos"
You wouldn't say: how ungrateful,
How boisterous, how rude.
Or if you did, with irony,
For you welcomed everyone
With the utmost courtesy.
What could you do
If a friend is a friend,
Your neighbor, Maribel,
And your niece a witness
That you were rightfully entering
A third stretch,
For you would walk it with him.
Even if everything was adverse
You were a very patient man
And, at night, you were immersed
In your plot and verse by verse
You would advance stubbornly.
Almost, almost you had it,
But sleep would overcome you.
On your pillow, you would toss and turn
The thing over and over again
And, if here it rhymed with "osa",
You would say: come on, the bear,
But if it's already solved,
All that would be left is
To review this harmony
And a finishing touch and it would be done.
And at some point, I don't know,
You would get out of bed,
Take sips of coffee
And, with this last stretch,
To your summer whim
The end.
Just as dawn was breaking.