Joan Manuel Serrat - El titiritero
De aldea en aldea
el viento lo lleva
siguiendo el sendero,
su patria es el mundo,
como un vagabundo
va el titiritero. Viene de muy lejos,
cruzando los viejos
caminos de piedra.
Es de aquella raza
que de plaza en plaza,
nos canta su pena. ¡Allez hop!
¡Titiritero, allez hop!
de feria en feria.
Siempre risueño,
canta sus sueños
y sus miserias. Vacía su alforja
de sueños que forja
en su andar tan largo.
Nos baja una estrella
que borra la huella
de un recuerdo amargo. Canta su romanzaJoan Manuel Serrat - El titiritero - http://ru.motolyrics.com/joan-manuel-serrat/el-titiritero-lyrics-english-translation.html
al son de una danza
híbrida y extraña,
para que el aldeano
le llene la mano
con lo poco que haya. ¡Allez hop!
¡Titiritero, allez hop!
de feria en feria.
Siempre risueño,
canta sus sueños
y sus miserias. Y al caer la noche
en el viejo coche
guardará los chismes,
y tal como vino
sigue su camino
solitario y triste. Y quizá mañana,
por esa ventana
que muestra el sendero
nos llegue su queja
mientras que se aleja
el titiritero.
Joan Manuel Serrat - The puppeteer (Английский перевод)
From town to town
the wind takes him
following the path,
his homeland is the world,
like a vagabond,
goes the puppeteer.
He comes from far away,
crossing the old
paths of stone.
He is from that race
that from plaza to plaza
he sings us his pain.
Allez hop!
Puppeteer, allez hop!
from festival to festival.
Always cheerful,
he sings his dreams
and his miseries.
Empty his saddlebag
of dreams that he forges
on his long gait.
He brings down a star for us
that erases the remnant
of a bitter memory.
He sings his romanceJoan Manuel Serrat - El titiritero - http://ru.motolyrics.com/joan-manuel-serrat/el-titiritero-lyrics-english-translation.html
to the sound of a dance -
hybrid and foreign,
so that the villager
fills his hand
with the little there is.
Allez hop!
Puppeteer, allez hop!
from festival to festival.
Always cheerful,
he sings his dreams
and his miseries.
And at the fall of night
in the old carriage
he will put away the trinkets,
and just as he came
follows his path
alone and sad.
And perhaps tomorrow
through that window
which shows the path
his complaint arrives to us
while he is lost in the distance
the puppeteer.