Текст и перевод песни Joaquín Sabina - Mi Primo el Nano

Mi Primo el Nano

Tengo yo un primo que es todo un maestro
De lo mio, de lo tuyo, de lo nuestro;
Un lujo para el alma y el oido,
Un modo de vengarse del olvido.
Boca que mira,
Vacino de Estambul, rey de Algeciras.
Viene del Poble Sec ese atorrante
Universal, charnego y trashumante,
Que saca, cuando menos te lo esperas,
Palomas de la paz de su chistera.
Y, cuando canta,
Le tiembla el corazón en la garganta.
Harto ya de estar harto de las fronteras
Va pidiendo escaleras para subir
De tu falda a tu blusa, toca madera:
Tendría que estar prohibido un fulano así.
Detrás esta la gente que necesita
Su música bendita más que comer
Y el siglo que deshoja su margarita.
Yo, de joven, quisiera ser como él.
Tengo yo un primo que es primo de todos
Cada cual a su forma y a su modo;
Loco hidalgo con yelmo de Mambrino
Que no teme a gigantes ni a molinos
Y cuando gana
El Barça cree que hay Dios y es azulgrana.
Qué poca seriedad, qué mal ejemplo
Para los mercaderes de los templos
Ese alquimista de las emociones
Que cura las heridas con canciones.
Mi primo el Nano,
Que no me toca nada y es mi hermano.
Harto ya de estar harto de las fronteras
Va pidiendo escaleras para subir
De tu falda a tu blusa, toca madera:
Tendría que esta prohibido un fulano así.
Detrás esta la gente que necesita
Su música bendita más que comer
Y el siglo que deshoja su margarita.
Yo, de joven, quisiera ser como es
Mi primo Joan Manuel.

My Cousin the Dwarf

I have a cousin who is quite a master
Of mine, of yours, of ours;
A luxury for the soul and the ear,
A way to get revenge on oblivion.
Mouth that looks,
Vaccine from Istanbul, King of Algeciras.
This bum comes from Poble Sec,
Universal, gypsy and vagrant,
Who pulls doves of peace out of his hat
When you least expect it.
And when he sings,
His heart trembles in his throat.
Tired of being tired of borders
He goes asking for ladders to climb up
From your skirt to your blouse, touch wood:
A guy like this should be banned.
Behind him are the people who need
His blessed music more than they need to eat,
And the century that plucks its daisy.
When I was young, I wanted to be like him.
I have a cousin who is everyone's cousin
Each in their own way and style;
Mad hidalgo with Mambrino's helmet
Who fears neither giants nor windmills
And when he wins
Barça, he believes that God exists and is blue and red.
What a lack of seriousness, what a bad example
For the merchants of the temple.
This alchemist of emotions
Who heals wounds with songs.
My cousin the Dwarf,
Who doesn't touch me at all and is my brother.
Tired of being tired of borders
He goes asking for ladders to climb up
From your skirt to your blouse, touch wood:
A guy like this should be banned.
Behind him are the people who need
His blessed music more than they need to eat,
And the century that plucks its daisy.
When I was young, I wanted to be like
My cousin Joan Manuel.