Romance de Curro el Palmo (with Alejandro Sanz) - Alejandro Sanz , Joan Manuel Serrat traduction en anglais

Romance de Curro el Palmo (with Alejandro Sanz)

La vida y la muerte
Temblando en la boca
Tenía Merceditas
La del guardarropa.
La del guardarropa
Del tablao de "El Lacio",
Un gitano falso,
Ex-bufón de palacio.
Alcahuete noble,
Que -al oir los tiros-,
Recogió sus capas
Y se pegó el piro.
Se acabó el jaleo,
Y el racionamiento
Le llenó el bolsillo,
Y montó este invento,
En donde "El Palmo"
Lloró cantando...
Ay, mi amor,
Sin tí no entiendo el despertar.
Ay, mi amor,
Sin tí mi cama es ancha.
Ay, mi amor
Que me desvela la verdad...
Entre tú y yo, la soledad
Y un manojillo de escarcha.
Mil veces le pide
- Y mil veces que "nones" -
De compartir sueños
Cama y macarrones.
Le dice, burlona:
" Carita serrana (gitana),
¿Cómo hacer buen vino
De una cepa enana?"
Y Curro se muerde
Los labios y calla,
Pues no hizo la mili
Por no dar la talla.
Y quien calla, otorga,
Como dice el dicho...
Y Curro se muere
Por ese mal bicho.
Ay! Quien fuese abrigo,
Para andar contigo.
Ay, mi amor,
Sin tí no entiendo el despertar.
Ay, mi amor,
Sin tí mi cama es ancha.
Ay, mi amor
Que me desvela la verdad...
Entre tú y yo, la soledad
Y un manojillo de escarcha.
Buscando el olvido
Se dio a la bebida,
Al mus, las quinielas...
Y en horas perdidas
Se leyó enterito
A Don Marcial Lafuente
Por no ir tras su paso
Como un penitente.
Y una noche, mientras
Palmeaba "farrucas",
Se escapó Mercedes
Con un "cura-pupas"
De clínica propia
Y Rolls de contrabando.
Y, entre palma y palma,
Curro fue palmando
Entre cantares
Por soleares.
Ay, mi amor,
Sin tí no entiendo el despertar.
Ay, mi amor,
Sin tí mi cama es ancha.
Ay, mi amor
Que me desvela la verdad...
Entre tú y yo, la soledad
Y un manojillo de escarcha.
Quizás fue la pena
O la falta de hierro.
El caso es que un día
Nos tocó ir de entierro.
Pésames y flores,
Y dos lagrimitas
Que soltó la Patro
Al cerrar la cajita...
A mano derecha,
Según se va al cielo,
Veréis un tablao
Que montó Frascuelo,
Donde, por las noches,
Pa las buenas almas,
El Currito "El Palmo"
Sigue dando palmas.
Canta sus males
Por "celestiales":
Ay, mi amor,
Sin tí no entiendo el despertar.
Ay, mi amor,
Sin tí mi cama es ancha.
Ay, mi amor
Que me desvela la verdad...
Entre tú y yo, la soledad
Y un manojillo de escarcha.

Romance of Curro el Palmo (with Alejandro Sanz)

Life and death
Trembling on her lips
Mercedes had
The cloakroom girl.
The cloakroom girl
Of the "El Lacio" tablao,
A false gypsy,
Ex-court jester.
A noble pimp,
Who -when he heard the shots-,
Gathered his coats
And took off.
The fuss was over,
And the rationing
Filled his pocket,
And he set up this scheme,
Where "El Palmo"
Cried and sang...
Oh, my love,
Without you I don't understand waking up.
Oh, my love,
Without you my bed is wide.
Oh, my love
Who makes me lose sleep with the truth...
Between you and me, loneliness
And a handful of frost.
A thousand times he asks her
- And a thousand times she says "no" -
To share dreams
Bed and macaroni.
She says to him, mockingly:
"Gypsy girl, little face,
How can you make good wine
From a dwarf vine?"
And Curro bites his lip
And keeps quiet,
For he didn't do his military service
For being too short.
And who keeps quiet, consents,
As the saying goes...
And Curro dies
From that evil bug.
Oh, who would be a coat,
To walk with you.
Oh, my love,
Without you I don't understand waking up.
Oh, my love,
Without you my bed is wide.
Oh, my love
Who makes me lose sleep with the truth...
Between you and me, loneliness
And a handful of frost.
Seeking oblivion
He gave himself to drink,
Cards, football pools...
And in lost hours
He read in its entirety
Don Marcial Lafuente
So as not to follow in his footsteps
Like a penitent.
And one night, while
He was clapping "farrucas",
Mercedes ran away
With a "quack doctor"
With his own clinic
And a smuggled Rolls.
And, between claps,
Curro went pale
Singing
Soleares.
Oh, my love,
Without you I don't understand waking up.
Oh, my love,
Without you my bed is wide.
Oh, my love
Who makes me lose sleep with the truth...
Between you and me, loneliness
And a handful of frost.
Perhaps it was grief
Or a lack of iron.
The fact is that one day
We had to go to a funeral.
Sympathies and flowers,
And two little tears
That Patro shed
When they closed the coffin...
On the right-hand side,
As you go to heaven,
You will see a tablao
That Frascuelo set up,
Where, at night,
For good souls,
Currito "El Palmo"
Keeps clapping.
He sings his ills
As "celestials":
Oh, my love,
Without you I don't understand waking up.
Oh, my love,
Without you my bed is wide.
Oh, my love
Who makes me lose sleep with the truth...
Between you and me, loneliness
And a handful of frost.