Текст и перевод песни Marc Parrot - Sinfonia Número 7 en Colors

Sinfonia Número 7 en Colors

Ha plogut sobre el meu cap
Hi ha crescut herba molt fresca
He sortit a passejar
Amb la testa florida i verda

Perquè també s'hi han fet flors
Com si jo fos una gerra
Després ha sortit el sol
I he sentit olor de terra

Fixa't jo, quin cap més verd
Quina enveja, quina enveja!
Papallones i ocellets
S'hi posen, i les abelles

El vent m'ha dut grans de blat
I com que ja és primavera
Les espigues s'han llevat
Per damunt dels brins de l'herba

I han cobert les flors del foc
Car també han crescut roselles
I per fer-me un cap tot d'or
El sol m'ha pansit la gespa

Fixa't jo, quin cap més groc
Quina enveja, quina enveja!
Papallones i ocellots
S'hi posen, i les abelles

L'estiu m'ha dut la calor
I ha arribat el temps de sega
I he anat a cal segador
Vinc perquè em segueu la testa

Podeu segar tot el blat
Però per res ni una rosella
I he sortit al carrer gran
Amb la testa ben vermella

Fixa't jo, quin cap vermell
Quina enveja, quina enveja!
Papallones, grans ocells
S'hi posen, i les abelles

Oh, quina enveja em tens!
Oh, quina enveja em tens!
Oh, quina enveja em tens!

Les roselles s'han pansit
La tardor no té donzelles
I els meus cabells blancs i fins
Han omplert de nou la testa

L'hivern m'ha cobert de neu
M'ha robat les flors i l'herba
I el fred m'ha fet presoner
Amb el cap blanc com la pedra

Fixa't jo, quin cap més blanc
Quina enveja, quina enveja!
Ni papallones ni ocells
S'hi posen, ni les abelles
On és la pluja, on és?

Symphony Number 7 in Colors

Rain has fallen on my head
And made the grass grow luscious
I have gone outside to walk
With my head covered with flowers and grass

For flowers have also grown upon it
As if I were a vase
Then the sun came out
And I smelled the scent of the earth

Look at me, my head is so green
How enviable, how enviable!
Butterflies and birds
Land on it, and bees

The wind has brought me grains of wheat
And since it is now spring
The ears have risen
Above the blades of grass

And they have extinguished the fire of the flowers
For roses have also grown
And to make my head all gold
The sun has scorched my grass

Look at me, my head is so yellow
How enviable, how enviable!
Butterflies and birds
Land on it, and bees

Summer has brought me heat
And the time for the harvest has come
And I have gone to the reaper
Come reap my head

You can harvest all the wheat
But not one rose
And I have come out into the street
With my head very red

Look at me, my head is so red
How enviable, how enviable!
Butterflies, big birds
Land on it, and bees

Oh, how you envy me!
Oh, how you envy me!
Oh, how you envy me!

The roses have withered
Autumn has no maidens
And my hair, white and fine
Has once again filled my head

Winter has covered me with snow
And robbed me of my flowers and grass
And the cold has made me a prisoner
With my head as white as stone

Look at me, my head is so white
How enviable, how enviable!
Not even butterflies nor birds
Land on it, not even bees
Where is the rain, where is it?