Текст и перевод песни Joan Manuel Serrat - Romance de Curro el Palmo (Directo México)

Romance de Curro el Palmo (Directo México)

La vida y la muerte
Bordada 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 (1).
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 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... (etc)
Buscando el olvido
Se dio a la bebida,
Al mus, las quinielas...
Y en horas perdidas
Se leyó enterito
A Don Marcial Lafuente (2)
Por no ir tras su paso
Como un penitente.
Y una noche, mientras
Palmeaba "farrucas",
Se escapó Mercedes
Con un "cura-pupas" (3)
De clínica propia
Y Rolls de contrabando.
Y, entre palma y palma,
Curro fue palmando (4)
Entre cantares
Por soleares.
Ay, mi amor,
Sin tí no entiendo el despertar... (etc)
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, amor,
Sin tí no entiendo el despertar...

Curro el Palmo's Ballad (Live Mexico)

Life and death
Embroidered on the mouth
Mercedes had
The cloakroom.
The cloakroom
Of the "El Lacio" tablao,
A false gypsy,
Ex-court jester.
Noble pimp,
Who - on hearing the shots -
Gathered up his cloaks
And hit the road (1).
The hustle was over,
And the rationing
Filled his pockets,
And he put together this invention,
Where "El Palmo"
Wept 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
That the truth keeps me awake...
Between you and me, solitude
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, mocking:
"Gypsy face,
How can you make good wine
From a dwarf vine?"
And Curro bites his
Lips and is silent,
For he didn't do his military service
Because he didn't make the grade.
And he who keeps quiet, agrees,
As the saying goes...
And Curro dies
From that evil creature.
Oh! Who would be a coat,
To walk with you.
Oh, my love,
Without you, I don't understand waking up... (etc)
Seeking oblivion
He gave himself to drink,
To cards, to gambling...
And in lost hours
He read himself whole
To Don Marcial Lafuente (2)
So as not to follow in his footsteps
Like a penitent.
And one night, while
Clapping "farrucas",
Mercedes escaped
With a "healer" (3)
With his own clinic
And a Rolls Royce smuggled in.
And, between clap and clap,
Curro went pale (4)
Among the songs
Of the soleares.
Oh, my love,
Without you, I don't understand waking up... (etc)
Perhaps it was the sorrow
Or the lack of iron.
The fact is that one day
We had to go to a funeral.
Condolences and flowers,
And two little tears
That Patro shed
As she closed the casket...
To the right,
As you go to heaven,
You will see a tablao
That Frascuelo built,
Where, at night,
For the good souls,
Currito "El Palmo"
Keeps clapping.
He sings his troubles
As "heavenly":
Oh, love,
Without you, I don't understand waking up...