Текст и перевод песни Joan Manuel Serrat - Si Hagues Nascut Dona

Si Hagues Nascut Dona

Si hagués nascut dona, hauria fet feliç
La meva mare, que volia una nena.
En record de l'àvia morta el 36
Em diria Joana.
Joana, Joana
La de "la manya".
La del noranta-cinc
Del carrer Cabanyes.
Si hagués nascut dona, per bé o per mal,
Subtilment hauria estat alliçonada
Amb nines, cuinetes, agulla i didal.
Eines en miniatura
Per a una obscura
Vida futura.
Verins embolicats
Amb llaminadures.
Tot és un dir, un suposar,
Una història en blanc i negre.
Blanc era el fred i negre el pa
Just acabada la guerra.
Si hagués nascut dona, hauria fet girar
Mansament l'antic rotlle de la patata
Mentre els nois jugaven a saltar i parar,
S'enfilaven als arbres,
Penjaven pilotes,
S'esbatussaven
I pixaven dempeus
Per les cantonades.
Si hagués nascut dona, hauria estudiat
Fins a quart i, amb sort, potser magisteri.
Submisa, discreta, que mai el veïnat
Pogués dir-ne ni mica.
Serien de suro
La clau i el duro
I a casa a quarts de deu
Com a tard. T'ho juro.
I plorar sang un cop al mes,
Ocult sota una carota
El voraviu dels sentiments
Com quasi bé quasi totes.
Si hagués nascut dona, seguim inventant...
Després d'anys d'estalvis i festeig
M'hauria casat per l'església vestida de blanc.
La mare ploraria,
Diu que d'alegria,
Quan em duria
Del braç un príncep blau
De "guardarropía".
Si hagués nascut dona, per mal o per bé,
M'hauria atipat d'empassar-me penes,
De preparar ranxo, de canviar bolquers,
De cardar sense ganes...
Joana, Joana,
Escurant el marro,
Triscant de sol a sol
I tirant del carro.
O qui et diu que no m'hagués firat
El sultà de la Verneda.
Si és cara o creu ningú no ho sap
Fins que no cau la moneda.
Si hagués nascut dona, parlant amb l'espill
Cada dia més vella, cada dia més grassa.
Veient com s'envolen un a un els fills
I sopant tota sola
Plors a la cassola,
Marcits els llavis,
Posant flors als records
I cuidant dels avis.
O potser un bon dia me n'hauria anat
Més enllà del cel protector de la casa
Per camins indòcils lluny del meu ramat
A trobar na Joana,
Joana, Joana
La de "la manya".
La del noranta-cinc
Del carrer Cabanyes.

If I Had Been Born a Woman

If I had been born a woman, I would have made happy
My mother, who wanted a girl.
In memory of the grandmother who died in '36
She would have named me Joana.
Joana, Joana
The one with "the knack".
The one from number ninety-five
On Cabanyes Street.
If I had been born a woman, for good or for bad,
Subtly I would have been taught
With dolls, kitchenettes, needle and thimble.
Tools in miniature
For an obscure
Future life.
Poisons wrapped
With sweets.
It's all a saying, a supposition,
A story in black and white.
White was the cold and black the bread
Just after the war.
If I had been born a woman, I would have turned
Gently the old potato peeler
While the boys played jumping and stopping,
They climbed trees,
Hung balls,
Fought
And peed standing up
On the corners.
If I had been born a woman, I would have studied
Up to fourth grade and, with luck, maybe teaching.
Submissive, discreet, so that the neighborhood
Could never say a word about me.
They would be made of cork
The key and the five-peseta coin
And at home by ten fifteen
At the latest. I swear.
And crying blood once a month,
Hidden under a mask
The rawness of feelings
Like almost all of them.
If I had been born a woman, let's keep inventing...
After years of savings and courtship
I would have gotten married in the church dressed in white.
Mother would cry,
She says from joy,
When she would lead me
By the arm a prince in blue
From "the wardrobe".
If I had been born a woman, for bad or for good,
I would have gotten tired of swallowing sorrows,
Of preparing meals, of changing diapers,
Of combing without desire...
Joana, Joana,
Scrubbing the rust,
Working from sunrise to sunset
And pulling the cart.
Or who says I wouldn't have been swept away
By the sultan of La Verneda.
If it's heads or tails nobody knows
Until the coin falls.
If I had been born a woman, talking to the mirror
Every day older, every day fatter.
Seeing how the children fly away one by one
And having dinner all alone
Tears in the pot,
Withered lips,
Putting flowers on memories
And taking care of the grandparents.
Or maybe one day I would have gone
Beyond the protective sky of the house
On untamed paths far from my flock
To find Joana,
Joana, Joana
The one with "the knack".
The one from number ninety-five
On Cabanyes Street.