Paroles et traduction Joan Manuel Serrat - Tío Alberto

Tío Alberto

Gitano o payo pudo ser
O un aristócrata que ayer
Perdió su cetro de oro y su corona,
Camina sobre el bien y el mal,
Con la cadencia de su vals,
Mitad juicio y mitad mueca burlona.
Tío Alberto, tío Alberto
Cató de todos los vinos,
Anduvo por mil caminos
Y atracó de puerto en puerto.
Entre la ruina y la riqueza
Entre mentiras y promesas,
Aún sabe sonreír tío Alberto.
Da todo lo que puede dar
Su casa está de par en par,
Quien quiere entrar tiene un plato en la mesa.
Pero no os cambia el cielo por
La orden de la Legión De Honor
Que le dió la República Francesa.
Tío Alberto, tío Alberto
Aún tiembla con los motores,
Las muchachas y las flores,
Con Vivaldi y el flamenco.
Tiene de un niño la ternura
Y de un poeta la locura
Y aún cree en el amor, tío Alberto.
Por ti valsea en re bemol
Agradecido el tibio sol
De ese otoño que hiciste primavera.
El vaso de mi juventud
Yo lo levanto a tu salud,
Rey del país del sueño y la quimera.
Tío Alberto, tío Alberto
Qué suerte tienes cochino,
En el final del camino
Te esperó la sombra fresca,
De una piel dulce de 20 años
Donde olvidar los desengaños
De diez lustros de amor,
Tío Alberto.

Uncle Albert

Gypsy or gentleman he could have been,
Or an aristocrat who just yesterday
Lost his golden scepter and his crown,
He walks between good and evil's domain,
With the cadence of his waltz's refrain,
Half judgment and half a mocking frown.
Uncle Albert, oh Uncle Albert, my dear,
He tasted all the wines, it is clear,
Walked a thousand roads, both far and near,
And docked in every port, year after year.
Between ruin and riches he'd reside,
Between lies and promises he'd confide,
He still knows how to smile, with nothing to hide, my sweet Uncle Albert.
He gives all that he can possibly give,
His house is open, so that all may live,
Whoever wants to enter, a plate they'll receive.
But he wouldn't trade the sky above,
For the Legion of Honor's decree of love,
Given to him by the French Republic, my dove.
Uncle Albert, oh Uncle Albert, so free,
He still thrills to engines, you see,
To girls and flowers, wild and glee,
To Vivaldi and flamenco's decree.
He has the tenderness of a child so small,
And the madness of a poet, standing tall,
And he still believes in love, giving his all, my dear Uncle Albert.
For you, the warm sun waltzes in D-flat's key,
Grateful for the autumn you made spring, you see,
The glass of my youth I raise, toasting thee.
King of the land of dreams and fantasy.
I raise my glass to your health and prosperity,
King of the land of dreams and sweet reverie.
Uncle Albert, oh Uncle Albert, so blessed,
You lucky dog, I must confess,
At the end of the road, you found your rest,
In the cool shade, held close and caressed,
Of a sweet, twenty-year-old skin, I guess,
Where you could forget all your distress,
Of fifty years of love, more or less,
My dear Uncle Albert, I must confess.