Текст и перевод песни Joan Manuel Serrat - Per Sant Joan (Versión 1968)

Per Sant Joan (Versión 1968)

Un vespre quan l'estiu obria els ulls
Per aquells carrers on tu i jo ens hem fet grans,
On vam aprendre a córrer,
Damunt un pam de sorra
S'alçava una foguera per Sant Joan.
Llavors un tros de fusta era un tresor
I amb una taula vella ja érem rics.
Pels carrers i les places
Anàvem de casa en casa
Per fer-ho cremar tot aquella nit
De Sant Joan.
Érem quatre trinxeraires.
No en sabíem gaire de les llàgrimes
Que fan que volti el món.
Anàvem entrant a la vida.
Mai una mentida,
No ens calia i res no ens robava el son...
Els anys m'han allunyat del meu carrer
I s'han perdut aquells companys de jocs.
El bo i el que fa nosa
Com si qualsevol cosa.
Sembla que tot s'hagués cremat al foc
De Sant Joan.
I ara, aquesta vesprada
Una altra vegada
Veig els 'nanos' collint llenya per carrer.
Corren.
Com jo abans corria.
Els crido i em miren
Com si fos un cuc estrany i passatger.
Doneu-me un tros de fusta per cremar
O la prendré d'on pugui, com ahir,
Com si no n'hi hagués d'altra.
Jo he sigut com vosaltres.
No vull sentir-me vell aquesta nit.
Que un tros de fusta torni a ser un tresor.
Que amb una taula vella sigui ric.
Pels carrers i les places
Aniré de casa en casa
Per fer-ho cremar tot aquesta nit
De Sant Joan.

For Midsummer's Eve (1968 Version)

One evening, as summer opened her eyes,
Through those streets where you and I grew up,
Where we learned how to run
On a patch of sand
A bonfire was burning for Midsummer's Eve.
Then a piece of wood was a treasure
And with an old table we were already rich.
Through the streets and squares,
We would go from house to house
To burn the lot that night,
Midsummer's Eve,
We were four trench diggers.
We knew little of the tears
That make the world turn.
We were just entering life.
Never a lie,
We didn't need it and nothing robbed us of our sleep...
The years have separated me from my street,
And my playmates have disappeared.
The good and the nuisance
Are as if nothing mattered.
It seems that everything had burned in the fire
Of Midsummer's Eve.
And now, this evening,
Once again,
I see the "dwarfs" gathering wood in the street.
They run,
Just like I used to run before.
I call out to them and they look at me
As if I were a strange and fleeting bug.
Give me a piece of wood to burn
Or I'll take it from wherever I can, as yesterday,
As if there were no other.
I have been like you.
I don't want to feel old tonight.
May a piece of wood become a treasure again.
May I be rich with an old table.
Through the streets and squares,
I will go from house to house
To burn the lot that night,
Midsummer's Eve.