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Catalan songs with translations RUSSIAN TRANSLATIONS FIND HERE

Pregaria o Lo cant de l'ànima a la Verge (Prayer or The Chant of the soul to the Virgin)

Music by Fermin Maria Alvarez
Lyrics by Victor Balaguer
from his work "Lo romiatge de mon anima"

Déu nos salve, Maria, Reyna y Mare dolsura y vida y esperansa nostra, à vos pregàm los desterrats fills d'Eva Misericordia ! Misericordia ! Misericordia ! A vos, Senyora, la sacra Verge, l'amoroseta, la llum dels cels, la moreneta de la montanya, Reina dels angels, Mare de Déu A vos Senyora, mon cor, mos somnis, mas esperansas, mos pensaments, tot quant ma vida ne tè de vida, tot quant mon ànima ne tè de fé. Quan per mi vinga l'hora suprema, Reina dels angels, lliri del cel, f'eu que a las horas, Santa Madona, ansque'ls ulls clogue per sempre mès, f'eu que jo veje voltats de gloria y en mitj de nuvols d'or y d'encens los tres grans àngels que de ma vida sigueren sempre companys fa els, los meus tres ùnichs companys fa els: l'Amor dolsissim, la mare Patria la mare Patria la Santa Fé la Santa Fé.

God save us, Maria, Queen and Mother, Sweetness and life, and our hope, We pray to you, unhappy Eva's children. Have mercy on us! Our Lady, holy Virgin, Loving, Heaven's light, Swarty lady of the mountains (1), Queen of angels, Mother of God, Our Lady, Thine is my heart, my dreams, My hopes, my thoughts, All life that my life has, All faith that is in my soul. When my last hour comes, Queen of Angels, Lily of Heavens, Holy Madona, make that when My eyes close forever I see the light of glory, And in the midst of clouds of gold and incence The three great angels who all my life had been my companions, my three marvelous companions: The sweetest Love, The Motherland, The Holy Faith. Translation: Ghislaine Antoine and Maria Kozlova

(1) "La Moreneta" is what Catalans call the wooden statue of God's Mother in the Montserrat cloister, because the wood it was made of darkened with time.
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T'ESTIMO (I LOVE THEE)
Poem by H.C. Andersen
Music by Edward Grieg

Tu ets del meu cor la imatge preferida, tu ets del meu cor el goig m�s ben amat. T'estimo m�s que tot lo d'eixa terra, t'estimo �s cert, i per l'eternitat. Jo penso amb tu i sols per tu �s ma pensa. Tan sols a tu el meu cor �s consagrat. Tan cert com D�u regeix la terra immensa, T'estimo amb fe i per l'eternitat.

You are my heart's best-loved image. You are my heart's dearest joy. I love you more than anything on this earth, I love you surely and for eternity. I think of you, All my thoughts are about you. To you alone my heart is consecrated. As surely as God reigns this immense earth I love you dearly forever.UP

EL CANT DELS OCELLS (THE CAROL OF THE BIRDS)
Traditional

Al veure despuntar el major lluminar en la Nit més joiosa, els ocellets cantant a festejar-lo van amb sa veu melindrosa. L'ocell rei de l'espai va pels aires volant cantant amb melodia, dient: Jesús és nat, per treure'ns del pecat i dar-nos alegria.

When they see breaking the greatest light on the most joyous Night, the little birds singing go to serenade it with their dainty voices. The bird, the king of space, goes flying through the skies singing with melody, saying: Jesus is born do draw us out of sin and bring joy.UP

CANÇÓ DEL LLADRE (SONG OF THE THIEF)
Traditional

Quan jo n'era petitet festejava i presumia, espardenya blabca al peu i mocador a la falsia. Adéu, clavell morenet! Adéu, estrella del dia! I ara, que ja en sóc grandet, m'he posat a mala vida. m'he posat a robar, ofici de cada dia. Adéu, clavell morenet! Adéu, estrella del dia! Quan he tingut prous diners he robat també una nina: l'he robada amb falsedat, dient que m'hi casaria. Adéu, clavell morenet! Adéu, estrella del dia!

When I was small I courted and presumed, white sandals on my feet and kerchief in my pocket. Farewell, little brown carnation! Farewell, star of the day! And now that I'm older, I've gone over to a bad life. I've become a robber, the trade of every day. Farewell, little brown carnation! Farewell, star of the day! When I had enough money I also stole a girl: I stole her with a lie, Promising to marry her. Farewell, little brown carnation! Farewell, star of the day!UP

EL TESTAMENT D'AMELIA (THE TESTAMENT OF AMELIA)
Traditional

Malalta está, malalta, la filla del bon rei. Comtes la van a veure comtes i noble gent. Ai, que el meu cor s'em nua com um pom de clavells. També he va sa mare quan ja no hi ha remei. Filla, la meva filla, de quin mal us queixey? Ai, que el meu cor s'em nua com um pom de clavells. Mare, la meva mare, bé prou que ho sabeu, metzines m'heu donades que em nuen el cor meu. Ai, que el meu cor s'em nua com um pom de clavells.

Sick she is, sick, the good king's daughter. Counts come to see her, counts and nobility. Alas, my heart is knotted up like a bouquet of carnations. Her mother also goes there When there is nothing more do be done, Daughter, my daughter, of what sorrow do you complain? Alas, my heart is knotted up like a bouquet of carnations. Mother, my mother, you know well enough, you've given me poisons which are trying my heart in knots. Alas, my heart is knotted up like a bouquet of carnations. UP

RECORD DE SOLSONA (MEMORY OF SOLSONA)
Poem by Josep Mª Sagarra
Music by Josep Font i Parera

Fa una lluna clare i una nit serena Jo m'estic a la plaça de sant Joan damunt les finestres cau la lluna plena cau damunt la pica que la fa brillant. Aquesta plaça és tota recollida, tan aquietadora i tan suau, que sembla un replaner d'una altra vida on s'anés a abeurar-hi un glop de pau. Jo no sé pas per què jo aquí voldria estar-hi llarga estona quietament, amb una noia sols per companyia sens besar-la ni dir-li cap lament. Veure el tresor que d'aquí estant s'obira sense esflorar-li el seu cabell gentil, sols sentir-la a la vora com respira... I respirar aquest aire tan tranquil.

The moon is bright and the night is calm. I am in St.John's Square; the full moon falls on the windows, falls on the pool which makes it shine. This place is all closed in upon itself, So quieting, so mild that it seems interposed from another life where one might go to drink a draught of peace. I don't know why I would like to stay here a long time, with just a girl for company without kissing her or telling her my woes. To spy the treasure here revealed without dishevelling her elegant hair, only to hear her near me as she breathes... And to breathe this tranquil air. UP

PEL TEU AMOR (ROSÓ) (FOR YOUR LOVE)
Poem by M. Poal Aragall
Mysic by Josep Ribas

Amb la llum del teu mirar, has omplert la meva vida. Si em volguessis estimar, ma illusió fora complida, i viuria tan content que en mom rostre s'hi veuria a la llum del'argaïment. I a tothora et cantaria una cançó pels teus ulls que jo mateix et faria; una cançó pels teus ulls perqué enmig de tants esculls fossin ells la meva guia. Rosó, Rosó llum de la meva vida, Rosó, Rosó, no desfacis ma illusió. Presoner en tots moments de la teva veu tan clara, que allunya els mals pensaments i la bondat sols ampara, perquè és fresca i és suau i és un doll de poesia i s'assembla a n'el cel blau que al cor ens dóna alegria. Doncs ja que'm tens presoner un dia i un altre dia, i jo m'hi trobo tant bé Roser la meva Roser vulgues fer-me companyia. Rosó, Rosó llum de la meva vida, Rosó, Rosó, no desfacis ma illusió.

With the light of your glance, you have filled my life. If you were to love me, my hope would be fulfilled, and I would live so happily that in my face they would see the light of gratitude. And I would always sing for you a song to your eyes that I myself would compose; a song to your eyes, because amid so many pitfalls they would be my guide. Roso, Roso, light of my life, Roso, Roso, don't undo my hopes. Forever a prisoner of your voice so clear that carries evil thoughts away and goodness only shelters, being young and soft to the ear, an outpour of poetry; a mirror of the blue sky that brings joy to our hearts. Thus, since you already hold me captive one day after another, and I feel here at such ease, oh Roser, my Roser, why won't you keep me company. Roso, Roso, light of my life, Roso, Roso, don't undo my hopes. UP

CANÇÓ DE TAVERNA
Music and text by Apell les Mestres

A la taverna d'en Mallol! s'hi riu i plagueja; a la taverna d'en Mallol! molts hi entren amb lluna i en surten amb sol. A la taverna d'en Mallol s'hi beu i s'hi juga; a la taverna d'em Mallol dels diners que hi entren no se'n torna un sol. A la taverna d'en Mallol s'hi canta i s'hi balla; A la taverna d'en Mallol tal hi entra donzella i en surt com Déu vol. A la taverna d'en Mallol hi ha hagut punyalades A la taverna d'en Mallol diuen qu'eren quatre contra un home sol. A la taverna d'en Mallol no toi són rialles; A la taverna d'en Mallol han tancat les portes en senyal de dol.

At the tavern of Mallol they laugh and joke there. At the tavern of Mallol many enter with moonlight an come out with the sun. At the tavern of Mallol they drink and they play. At the tavern of Mallol of the coins that go in none ever comes out again. At the tavern of Mallol they sing and they dance there. At the tavern of Mallol a maiden may happen to enter and she comes out as God wills. At the tavern of Mallol there have been stabbings. At the tavern of Mallol they say there were four of them agains just one man. At the tavern of Mallol not all is laughter: At the tavern of Mallol they've closed the doors as a sign of mourning. UP

ELS CONTRABANDISTES
Traditional

Quina cançó cantarem que tots la sapiguem, la dels contrabandistes, a Banyuls varen anar de tabac a carregar tota una companyia. En passar per Fortià però, es varen topar amb la refumuda espia que a Figueres s'en va anar a contar ho al capità n'he vist contrabandistes. El capità va cridant: Minyons au andavant anem a perseguir-los. Ja m'en direu quants n'hi ha ja m'en direu quants n'hi ha vos que ja els haveu vistos.

What song shall we sing that all of us know? The song of the smugglers, they went to Banyuls to load tobacco a whole company. And passing by Fortià there they met with the cursed spy. And he went off to Figueres to tell it all to the captain, that he had seen smuggler. The captain cried, Come on now, my lads, Let's be off after them, Well, you'll tell me how many there are, well, you'll tell me how many there are, you who've seen all of them. UP

EL NOI DE LA MARE (THE BOY OF THE MOTHER)
Traditional

Què li darem a n'el Noi de la Mare? què le darem que li sàpiga bo? Li darem panses amb unes balances, li darem figues amb um paneró. Què li darem al Fillet de Maria? Què li darem al formòs Infantó? Panses i figues i nous i olives, Panses i figues i mel i mató. Tam, pa, tam, tam que les figues són verdes, tam, pa, tam, tam, que ja maduraran; sin no maduren el dia de Pasqua, maduraran el dia del Ram.

What shall we give to the Boy of the Mother? What shall we give that he would like? We'll give him raising and a scale, we'll give him figs in a big basket. What shall we give the the little son of Mary? What shall we give to the lovely infant boy? Raising and figs and walnuts and olives, raising and figs and honey with sweet cheese. Tam, pa, tam, tam, but the figs are green. tam, pa, tam, tam, but they'll soon be ripe. If they're not ripe for Easter, they'll be ripe for Palm Sunday. UP

DAMUN DE TU, NOMÉS LES FLORS (ABOVE YOU, NOTHING BUT FLOWERS)
Poem by Josep Janés
Music by Frederic Mompou

Damunt de tu, només les flors. Eren com una ofrena blanca: la llum que daven al teu cos, mai més seria de la branca. Tota una vida de perfum amb el seu bes t'era donada. Tu l'esquard clos atresorada. Si hagués pogut ésser sospir de flor! Donar-me com un llir a tu, qer què la meva vida S'anès marcin sobre el tey pit. I no spber mai mès la nit que al teu costat fora esvaïda.

Above you, nothing but flowers. They were lika a white offering: the light which they gave to your body would never again belong to the branch. A whole life of perfume was given to you with their kiss. You shone with the light treasured in the enclosing gaze. If only I could have been the sigh of a flower! To give myself like a lily to you, so that my life might slowly fade away on your breast. And never again to know the night which would vanish by your side.UP

ROMANÇ DE SANTA LLÚCIA (BALLAD OF ST. LUCY'S DAY)*
Poem by Josep Mª Sagarra

Perquè avui és Santa Llúcia dia de l'any gloriós, pels volts de la Plaça Nova rondava amb la meva amor. Anem tots dos a la fira, amiga anem-hi de jorn, que una mica de muntanya alegri nostra tristor. Comprarem grapats de molsa i una enramada d'arboç i una blanca molinera i una ovella i un pastor. Ho posarem a la migdia dins el nostre nemjador i abans de seure a la taula ens ho mirarem tots dos; que una mica de muntanya ens faci el menjar mès dolç. Perquè avui és Santa LLúcia dia de l'any gloriós, tals paraules m'acudien quan he vist la meva amor.

Because today is St. Lucy's day, glorious day of the year, around the Plaça Nova I went strolling with my love. Let´s both go to the fair, my friend, let's go there this morning, for a little bit of mountain will cheer up our sandess. We'll buy handfuls of moss and a garland of arbutus and a white milleress and a sheep and a shepherd. We'll arrange it at midday in our dining room and before sitting down at the table we'll both look at it; for a little bit of mountain will make our meal sweeter. Because today is St. Lucy's day glorious day of the year, such words occured to me when I saw my love. Note: St. Lucy's day, December 6th, is the day of the Christmas crêche fair in Barcelona. UP

MAIG (MAY)*
Poem by Josep Mª Sagarra

Terra qui floreix, mar qui s'hi encanta, suavíssim bleix de vida triomfanta. Pluges cristallines, aigües reflexant tendrors infantines qui riuen brillant. Claredat sonora, núvol qui s'hi perd, aura qui eixamora la tendrot del verd. Bordoneig suau d'abelles, profunda, silenciosa pau d'una hora fecunda. Món rejovenit, amor que hi esclata, deliciós oblit de les nits de plara. Quan el pleniluni, de Maig, silenciós, de qualque infortuni sembla dir a les flors.

Earth coming into flower, sea which enchants there, softest gasp of triumphant life. Crystalline rains, waters reflecting infantine tendernesses which laugh shining. Sonorous brightness, cloud losing itself, breeze which dries up the tenderness of the green. Soft buzzing of bees, deep, silent peace of a fruitful hour. World made young again, love which bursts out there, sweet forgetfulness of the silver nights. When the full moon of May, silent, seems to speak to the flowers of some misfortune. UP

CANÇÓ DE COMIAT (SONG OF FAREWELL)*
Poem by Trinitat Catesús

Adéu, galant terra, adéu! Adéu-siau, vinya verda, flor seca del caminal lledoner de bona ombreta. Ja no m'assec al pedrís ni m'abraça la riera. Adéu, galant terra, adéu. Les lloses d'aquell bancal són ombrejades i fresques. Els lledoners de la font han tret una fulla tendra i els ceps faran bon raïm quan els oregi el setembre. Adéu, galant terra, adéu. Els ceps faran bon raïm i llum viva les estrelles. Vindran les nits de l'estiu, la mar quieta i estesa llambrant sota el cop dels rems, tallada per la carena. Vindran les nits de l'estiu, la tardor i la primavera, lel boitres que baixa el cim, el crit de les orenetes. I sempre el respir del mar i el batec de les estrelles. Adéu muntanya, pedrís, paret blanca de l'església, plata de les oliveres, olor mullada dels horts, estrella, riera, vela. Adéu, galant terra, adéu.

Farewell, beautiful land, farewell! Farewell, green vine, dry flower of the land, nettle tree that gives good shade. I no longer sit on the stone bench nor does the stream embrace me. Farewell, beautiful land, farewell. The flagstones of this seat are shady and cool. The nettle trees by the spring have put out a tender leaf and the vines will make good grapes when the September wind blows on them. Farewell, beautiful land, farewell. The vines will make good wine and the stars vivid light. The summer nights will come, the sea calm, spread out sparkling under the strokes of the oars, cut by the keel. The summer nights will come, the autumn and the spring, the fogs sent down by the summit, the cry of the swallows. And always the breathing of the sea and the hearbeat of the stars. Farewell mountain, stone bench, white wall of the church, clear water of the spring, silver of the olive trees, moist scent of the garden plots, star, stream, sail. Farewell, beautiful land, farewell. UP

FESTEIG (COURTSHIP)*
Poem by Joan Maragall

Sota les estrelles, d'espatlles al mar, una galta, humida, fresca de serena, una galta, suau i plena, és ben dolça de basar. Entres dos silencis, bes silenciós com vares deixar-nos tremolant tots dos, dins la nit quieta, amb deixos ardents de la migdiada i dels terrals vents. El reberes silenciosa, mos llavis, dolços encar te van preguntar una cosa i tu no'm vas contestar. Qué vaig pregunater-te?... sols recordo el bes i que se sentia la plena mar alta, Tu, tota caiguda, semblaves malalta... Oh no hi tornaré mai més. Però la flonja galta ruixada amb serena, sota de ma boca, d'espatlles al mar; però la xafogosa nit d'agost serena, ai! com la podré oblidar?

Under the stars, backs turned to the sea, a moist cheek, cool with night air, a sofe, full cheek is sweet to kiss. Between two silences, silent kiss, how you left both of us trembling, in the quiet night, with the ardent savor of the midday and the winds from the land. You received it silently, my lips, still sweet asked you something and you did not answer me. What did I ask you?... I only remember the kiss and that we heard the high full sea. You, all pale, seemed ill... Oh, I'll never go back there again. But the pliant cheek moist with the night air under my mouth, backs turned to the sea, but the hot still August night, alas! how can I forget it? UP

CANÇÓ DE BRESSOL (CRADLE SONG)*
Poem by Tomás Garcès

De not matí se n'ha anat, tot just despuntava el dia i l'estrella de l'amor era un brot de tarongina. La rosada del matí era un plor de pedres fines. Dorm infant, que ton pare n'és al camp a collir menta florida. Apartarà els esbarzers quan el punxin les espines. Espines, feu-vos enllà; vine la menta florida. Quan passa el seu vacall blanc l'ocell tremola i refila. Dorm infant, que ton pare n'és al camp a collir menta florida. La selva s'aclairá, que la lluna l'illumina. l'herba florida fugia, però es ulls del cavall blanc en la fosca l'endevinen. Dorm infant... Dorm infant, que el son és dolç i l'oratjol hi convida. Demà, de bon matí, ton pare serà a la llinda. Que et trobi dintre el bressol com una estrella adormida. Dorm infant...

Early in the morning he went away just as the day was breaking and the love-star was a sprig of orange blossom. The dew of the morning was a sobbing of small jewels. Sleep, child, for your father in the fields to gather flowering mint. He'll push aside the brambles when the thorns prick him. Thorns, go away, let the flowering mint come. When his white horse passes, the bird trembles and trills. Sleep, child, for your father is in the fields to gather flowering mint. The wood will brighten for the moon lights it. Under the light of night the flowering grasses fled, but the eyes of the white horse sense them in the dark. Sleep, child... Sleep, child, for sleep is sweet, and the soft wind invites it. Tomorrow, early in the morning, your father will be home again. Let him find you in the cradle like a sleeping star. Sleep, child... UP

CANÇÓ DE GRUMET (SONG OF THE CABIN BOY)*
Poem by Tomás Garcès

Adéu, turons de Marsella, ja se'n van els mariners. Tot just hem hissat la vela es gira un oratge fresc. Aquell pinar de la costa deu ser ple de cants d'ocell; si no sentim l'ocellada ens duu romaní l'oreig. Quin goig, de bon dematf, sequir la darrera estrella: no hi ha lliri sense flor ni barco sense bandera. Infla't vela, llisca, vela! Com s'allunya la ciutat! Guaita l'or clar de la platja i a dalt de tot el cel clar. Timoner, potser sospires? L'enyorança t'ha punxat? El gallaret llengoteja i enjoia tota la nau. Quin goig, cremant sobre els pals, el gallaret de la festa: no hi ha lliri sense flor ni barco sense bandera. Adéu, turons de Marsella! Adéu, la noia i el pi! No ens espanten les ventades ni la boira de la nit. Si el vent xiula entre les cordes, demá el mar será ben llis. A cada port ens espera, amorós, un llavi fi. Quin goig, tornant de la mar, el petó d'una donzella: no hi ha lliri sense flor ni barco sense bandera.

Farewell, hills of Marseille, the sailors are leaving now. Just as we've hoisted the sail a fresh breeze begins to blow. That pine grove on the coast must be full of birdsong. although we don't hear the birds, th breeze brings us rosemary. What joy, early in the morning, to follow the last star: there is no lily without flower or boat without banner. Swell up, sail, glide, sail! How the city is going away! Look at the bright gold of the beach and th clear sky above everything. Steerman, are you sighing? Has homesickness pierced you? The flag flutters in the wind and adorns the whole ship. What joy, blazing over the masts, the festive flag; there is no lily without flower or boat without banner. Farewell, hills of Marseille! Farewell, the girl and the pine! We're not afraid of gusts of wind of of the night fog. If the wind whistles in the rigging, tomorrow the sea will be smooth. In every port there wait for us lovingly delicat lips What joy, coming back from the sea, the kiss of a girl: there is no lily without flower or boat without banner. UP

A L'OMBRA DEL LLEDONER (IN THE SHADOW OF THE NETTLE TREE)*
Poem by Tomás Garcès

A l'ombra del lledoner una fadrineta plora. La tarda mor dalt del cim i llisca per la rossola, l'esfilagarsen els brucs, la tenedra se l'emporta. La noia plora d'enyor: el lledoner no fa ombra. Fadrina l'amor és lluny; enllà, la carena fosca. Si passava un cavaller... Du el cavall blanc de la brida. L'arbre li dóna repòs, l'oratge, manyac, arriba. Al cel la llum del estel és la rosada del dia. Cavaller, l'amor és lluny; amb l'ombra i el cant fugia. Fadrina, l'amor és lluny; per l'ampla plana camina. La mit sospira: la nit, el bosc, la riera clara. Les branques del lledoner son fines i despullades; fulla i ocell n'han fugit però hi crema l'estelada. Les branques del lledoner son fines i despullades. Fadrina, l'amor é lluny; demana'l a punta d'alba quan l'ombra del lledoner s'allargui com un miracle.

In the shadow of the nettle tree, a young girl is weeping. The agternoon dies above the summit, and glides along the slippery slope, the heather wears it out, the darkness carries it off. The girl weeps with longing; the nettle tree makes no shade. Girl, love is far away; beyond the dark ridge. A knight passed by... He leads the white horse with the briddle. The tree gives him rest, the meek breeze arrives there. In the sky the light of the star is the dew of the day. Knight, love is far away; with the shade and the song it fled. Girl, love is far away; it walks along the broad plain. The night sighs: the night, the forest, the bright stream. The branches of the nettle tree are fine and bare; leaves and birds have fled but the starlight blazes there. The branches of the nettle tree ara fine and bare. Girl, love is far away; ask for it at break of dawn when the shadow of the nettle tree grows long like a miracle.UP

CANTICEL (LITTLE SONG)*
Poem by Josep Carner

Per una vela en el mar blau daria un ceptre, per una vela en el mar blau ceptre i palau. Per l'ala lleu d'una virtut mon goig daria i el tros que em resta, mig romput de joventut. Per una flor de romaní l'amor daria, per una flor de romaní l'amor doní.

For a sail in the blue sea I would give a scepter, fora sail in the blue sea scepter and palace. For the light wing of a virtue, I would give my joy, and what remains to me, half broken, of youth. For a flower of rosemary I would give love for a flower of rosemary My love I gave.UP

CANÇÓ INCERTA (UNSERTAIN SONG)*
Poem by Josep Carner

Aquest camí tan fi, tan fi, qui spa on mena? Es a la vila o és al pi de la carena? Un lliri blau, color de cel; diu: vine, vine! Però: no pasis! diu un vel de teranyina. Serà drecera del gosat, rossola ingrata o bé un camí d'enamorat, colgat de mata? Es un recer per a adormir qui passa pena? Aquest camí tan fi, tan fi, qui sap on mena? Qui sap si trist o somrient acull al'hoste? Qui sap si mor sobtadament sota la brosta? Qui sabrà mai aquest camí a què em convida? I és camí incert cada matí n'és cada vida!

This road so narrow, so narrow, who knows where it leads? Is it to the town of to the pine of the mountain ridge? A blue lily, color of the sky, says: come, come! But do not enter! Saya a veil of spiderweb. Will it be a shortcut for the daring, a slippery descent or a road for lovers, hidden in the bushes? It is a shelter to bring sleep to those who suffer? This road so narrow, so narrow, who knows where it leads? Who knows whether sad or smiling it welcomes the guest? Who knows if it dies suddenly under the foliage? Who will ever know to what this road invites me? and every morning is an uncertain road and so is every life! UP

CANÇÓ DE PASSAR CANTANT (PASS BY SINGING)*
Poem by Josep Mª Sagarra

Si ve l'abril tremolant i el ventet que no reposa i el perfum de Dijous Sant, noia, no cullis la rosa; passa cantant. Si les trampes van picant, si tenen vestits de festa la geganta i el gegant, noia, no llencis ginesta; passa cantant. Si la gent ploriquejant camina amb la vista baixa, si la Creu endavant, noia, no guaitis la caixa; passa cantant. Si t'escomet un galant tot tendresa tot deliris, defallint i sospirant, no l'escolltis ni t'el miris: passa cantant. Si una vella xiuxejant t'augura una mala estrella i et diu que se't marciran aquesta aires de poncelìa i aquesta galta tan bella no durarà ni un instant noia, riute'n de la vella; passa cantant.

If trembling April comes and the wind which doesn't rest and the perfume of Holy Thursday, girl, don't pick the rose: pass by singing. If the drummers on horseback go beating, if you see in their festival dress the giantess and th giant, girl, don't throw flowers of broom: pass by singing. If the people whimpering walk with their eyes cast down if the Cross goes in front, girl, don't watch the long box: pass by singing. If a gallant accosts you all tenderness, all passion, fainting and sighing, girl, don't listen to him, don't look: pass by singing. If an old woman, whispering foretells bad luck for you, predicts the wilting of your girlish grace, and that the roses in your cheeks will soon fade, girl, just laugh at the old woman: pass by singing. UP

* Music of songs by Eduard Toldrá
Translation: © 1990 Sony Music Entertainment (Spain)

PARAULES D'AMOR (PALABRAS DE AMOR) Letra y Musica de J.M. Serrat

CATALAN Ella em va estimar tant... Jo me l'estimo encara. Plegats vam travessar una porta tancada. Ella, com us ho podre dir, era tot el meu mon llavors quan en la llar cremaven nomes paraules d'amor... Paraules d'amor senzilles i tendres. No en sabiem mes, teniem quinze anys. No haviem tingut massa temps per aprende'n, tot just despertavem del son dels infants. En teniem prou amb tres frases fetes que haviem apres d'antics comediants. D'histories d'amor, somnis de poetes, no en sabiem mes, teniem quinze anys... Ella qui sap on es, ella qui sap on para. La vaig perdre i mai mes he tornat a trobar-la. Pero sovint en fer-se fosc, de lluny m'arriba una canco. Velles notes, vells acords, velles paraules d'amor... Paraules d'amor senzilles i tendres. No en sabiem mes, teniem quinze anys. No haviem tingut massa temps per aprende'n, tot just despertavem del son dels infants. En teniem prou amb tres frases fetes que haviem apres d'antics comediants. D'histories d'amor, somnis de poetes, no en sabiem mes, teniem quinze anys...

ESPAÑOL Ella me quiso tanto: Yo la quiero todavia. Juntos atravesamos Una puerta cerrada. Ella, como os lo diria, Era todo mi mundo entonces, Cuando en la lumbre ardian Solo palabras de amor... Palabras de amor sencillas y tiernas. No sabiamos mas, teniamos quince anos. No habiamos tenido demasiado tiempo para prenderlas, Acababamos de despertar del sueno de los ninos. Teniamos bastante con tres frases hechas Que habiamos aprendido de antiguos comediantes. De historias de amor, suenos de poetas, No sabiamos mas, teniamos quince anos... Ella, quien sabe donde esta, Ella, quien sabe donde para. La perdi y nunca mas He vuelto a encontrarla. Pero a menudo, al oscurecer, De lejos me llega una cancion. Viejas notas, viejos acordes, Viejas palabras de amor... Palabras de amor sencillas y tiernas. No sabiamos mas, teniamos quince anos. No habiamos tenido demasiado tiempo para aprenderlas, Acababamos de despertar del sueno de los ninos. Teniamos bastante con tres frases hechas Que habiamos aprendido de antiguos comediantes. De historias de amor, suenos de poetas, No sabiamos mas, teniamos quince anos...UP