Текст и перевод песни Joan Manuel Serrat - Balada per a un trobador

Balada per a un trobador

Les sabates foradades
La roba plena de pols,
I a la boca tremolosa
Sempre porta un cant ben dolç.
El país pel qual camina
No és altre que el seu país
I el vi que mulla sa gola
No és altre vi que el seu vi.
No era estrany en cap racó.
Ja era vell el trobador.
Ell ha cantat per a princeses
En lluents i grans palaus.
Ha saltat murs, ha obert portes
Tancades amb doble clau,
Quan tenia la veu clara
Com la pell dels seus amors,
Quan, a la nit, el tapaven
Llençols blancs brodats amb flors.
Les flors ja han perdut l′olor.
Ja era vell el trobador.
Avui ha canviat d'alcoves.
Ara que ha perdut les claus,
Una barraca de toves
Li sembla tot un palau
On la seva cançó s′alça
Per un plat i un got de vi.
Pastores i taverneres
Són les seves flors de nit.
Tot s'esfulla en la tardor.
Ja era vell el trobador.
I demà quan el sol surti
Ha de seguir el seu camí.
Arribarà en un altre poble
I se n'anirà d′allí
Amb les sabates foradades,
La roba plena de pols,
I a la boca tremolosa
S′endurà el seu cant ben dolç.

Ballad of a Troubadour

His shoes are full of holes,
His clothes are covered in dust,
And his trembling mouth
Always sings a sweet song.
The land he walks through
Is none other than his own
And the wine that wets his throat
Is none other than his own.
He was no stranger in any corner,
The troubadour was already old.
He has sung for princesses
In grand and gleaming palaces.
He has jumped walls, opened doors
Locked with double keys,
When his voice was clear
Like the skin of his lovers,
When, at night, he was covered
In white sheets embroidered with flowers.
The flowers have lost their scent,
The troubadour was already old.
Today he has changed his alcoves,
Now that he has lost the keys,
A hut of clay
Seems like a palace to him
Where his song rises
For a plate and a glass of wine.
Shepherds and tavern wenches
Are his night flowers.
All things wither in autumn.
The troubadour was already old.
And tomorrow, when the sun rises
He must continue his way.
He will arrive in another town
And will leave from there
With his shoes full of holes,
His clothes covered in dust,
And in his trembling mouth
He will carry his sweet song.