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My little dove

My little dove who flew away from me
your image returns night after night to impede my sleep
because of love, I get restless and I'm waiting for you
although hidden as ever my pain is beyond all bearing.
 
Because of your cruelty I'm bustling around sick and feverish
after cradling the warm affection that we lived together,
you took flight, here you left me, making me an orphan
homeless and alone, mired in sadness, since that time.
 
Without any solace I keep loving you each sunrise
as a shadow I am walking alone with my loneliness.
My eyes suffer when looking at the house where you no longer are,
a broken heart that stains my chest and makes me sob.
 
With a low flight from me you turned away little dove
because you didn't want me to stroke your hair and skin.
Come back, I ask you, to comfort me as you know how.
Relieve this sorrow that crushes my soul, my little dove
 

This is My Story

It all began like nothing
I was alone and bored
It was just another afternoon of me having doubts about my future
I requested something I wanted for Christmas
That would one way or another
See my dream come true
It was all very strange but I got a sign
The camera gave me a boost
And when I started to film
I went to sleep excited
It was an early morning
But there wasn't another one
My life was transforming
 
I had a hunch
I couldn't sleep
The video had just uploaded
And there was something in me
The weeks of summer passed
And I remember
If I had twenty views
I was more than satisfied
 
It was only a dream
To conquer a smile
To be able to be myself
And in doing so, to cause your laughter
So you'll forget your problems
And just to entertain you
So that one way or another
You'll smile when you see me
 
This is my story
Recalling my past
My personal legend
Constructed at each step
Crying with excitement
I'm sending you all a hug
Thank you for helping me
To see my dream come true
 
At school, I am quiet
Lying on my bench
And I can't concentrate
Because I keep thinking and I am in my own head
Even if no one believed me
And even if everyone made fun of me
I knew that with videos
Something great awaited me
Teachers, my friends
My family and everybody
Were telling me to give up
This immature hobby
And I seriously thought of giving it up
There was nothing positive
Nobody saw me
It was just causing conflict
 
In spite of everything I wanted to show them
That they were wrong
To underestimate me
And a year and a half went by
And when I least expected it
Boom!
The wheel of life
Which was shining on me
 
And I know that time helps
If you put it on your side
If you open your mind a little
And look outside the box
You'll see with other eyes
More than the in-between
I am a person like you
The internet is just a medium
 
This is my story
Remembering my past
My personal legend
Constructed at each step
Crying with excitement
And I'm sending you all a hug
Thank you for helping me
To see my dream come true
 
This is my story
Remembering my past
My personal legend
Constructed at each step
Crying with excitement
And I'm sending you all a hug
Thank you for helping me
To see my dream come true
 
They invited me to a party
It was cool and for a while
I thought I would stay seated
And chatting
But I was shocked
There were a lot of people shouting
Banging at the gate
I was baffled
 
They brought me up on stage
And I'll never forget
With stage fright
And without knowing what to do
I couldn't believe it
They were calling my name
I had never seen them
And to think that they know me
 
The euphoria was incredible
I would never have imagined
Destiny bestowed on me
More than I could have dreamed
I wanted for my videos
To be a remedy
Of laughing and cracking up
For the bad times
 
Even though we don't know each other
Many many thanks
For giving me the gift of your friendship
From far off in the distance
Keep going with your projects
Don't give up
Just keep going
Step by step
Always looking forward
Each letter
A message
A poster
A photo
Draws me a smile
Instantly
On my face
I don't want to be your idol
I don't want you to love me
I want to be your friend
The one who makes you happy
On those afternoons
 
This is my story
Remembering my past
My personal legend
Constructed at each step
Crying with excitement
And I'm sending you all a hug
Thank you for helping me
To see my dream come true
 
This is my story
Remembering my past
My personal legend
Constructed at each step
Crying with excitement
And I'm sending you all a hug
Thank you for helping me
To see my dream come true
 
Thanks to all of you
I am what I am now
I simply
Wanted to thank you all
 
This is my story
 

Kundera's Grandmother

Kundera's grandmother, and also mine,
knew every herb and their applications,
they knew what they had inside the mattresses,
they knew how to study the sky and bake bread.
 
Kundera's grandmother in her small Czech town
and mine in her Belchite, and they both knew
the priest was the confidant of the police.
There were no secrets around them.
 
Kundera's neighbor looks like mine.
If he is someone distinguished, nobody would say so.
He's a very proper character who spends eight hours
a day typing on a computer.
 
My neighbor goes back home and turns on the TV
and drinks a toast with the family with El Gaitero cider1
when the announcer affirms that in the whole world
there is no other place safer than our city.
 
My neighbor never knew that on that same night
on his street a young girl was raped,
that two elderly ladies were attacked and an indigent
turned up in the alley with his throat slit.
 
My neighbor, that night, got into bed
convinced he had the world under control,
certain of being a very well informed man
in respect to what was happening around him.
 
Kundera's grandmother, and also mine,
knew every herb and their applications,
they knew what they had inside the mattresses,
they knew how to study the sky and bake bread.
 

• 1. A Spanish cider

Kundera's Grandmother

Kundera's grandmother, and also mine,
knew every herb and their applications,
they knew what they had inside the mattresses,
they knew how to study the sky and bake bread.
 
Kundera's grandmother in her small Czech town
and mine in her Belchite, and they both knew
the priest was the confidant of the police.
There were no secrets around them.
 
Kundera's neighbor looks like mine.
If he is someone distinguished, nobody would say so.
He's a very proper character who spends eight hours
a day typing on a computer.
 
My neighbor goes back home and turns on the TV
and drinks a toast with the family with El Gaitero cider1
when the announcer affirms that in the whole world
there is no other place safer than our city.
 
My neighbor never knew that on that same night
on his street a young girl was raped,
that two elderly ladies were attacked and an indigent
turned up in the alley with his throat slit.
 
My neighbor, that night, got into bed
convinced he had the world under control,
certain of being a very well informed man
in respect to what was happening around him.
 
Kundera's grandmother, and also mine,
knew every herb and their applications,
they knew what they had inside the mattresses,
they knew how to study the sky and bake bread.
 

• 1. A Spanish cider

Kubala

Pele was Pele. And Maradona is one and enough
Di Stéfano was a well of tricks
Honor and glory to who made shine the sun
of our football of everyday
They all have their merits, each to his own
But for me there's nobody like Kubala
I beg you respectable silence
To make a resume for those who never enjoyed him.
 
He stops it with the head, he puts it down with the chest
And sleeps it with the left foot
And crosses the middle field with the ball
Attached to the boot.
He dodges the midfielder and gets in the big area
Fighting over the ball
He hides it with the body, pushes it with the ass
And back heels it
He pees on the central with a yours-and-mine
With dedicatory
And shoots it just to put it
On the way to glory
 
Long live the knowledge and the joy of the game
Decorated with a bit of fantasy
Football in colors, gourmet bite,
Crochet lace, a delight
 
When he stops it with the head, when he puts it down with the chest
When he sleeps it with the left foot
When he crosses the middle field with the ball
Attached to the boot.
When he dodges the midfielder and gets in the big area
Fighting over the ball
And he hides it with the body, pushes it with the ass
And back heels it
And he pees on the central with a yours-and-mine
With dedicatory
And shoots it just to put it
On the way to glory
 
Let me gloss the glory of those facts
As the Greeks did years before
With the joy of who played with him
And has his picture in his wallet
When he stops it with the head, when he puts it down with the chest
And he sleeps it with the left foot
 

Little Fado from the Highlands

Very good night to you all,
Ladies and gentlemen:
Up there in my homeland
There are good singers!
There are good singers,
Good songstresses...
The married ones weep,
The unmarried ones sing...
 
Ah, la-ree-la-ley...
The unmarried ones sing
Love folk tunes...
Love folk tunes!
Very good night to you all,
Ladies and gentlemen!
 
Little fado from the highlands,
You're much to my taste!
Little charming fado,
Always with a good disposition...
Always with a good disposition,
Whether it be late or early:
Making good friends
Is your secret!
 
Ah, la-ree-la-ley...
It's your secret
To smile at displeasure...
To smile at displeasure:
Little charming fado,
Always with a good disposition!
 
Trusting men
Is like believing the devil:
All of them are the same,
In the end...
In the end,
A lass who gets a boyfriend
Gets lost in songs:
She's the one who ends up crying!
She's the one who ends up crying...
I'm finishing with this one:
Trusting men
Is like believing the devil!
 
Ah, la-ree-la-ley...
She's the one who ends up crying...
I'm finishing with this one:
Trusting men
Is like believing the devil!
 

Poem pentru o voce

Acest poem l-am scris in tristețea nopții. Avionul tocmai a decolat și iubirea mea tocmai a plecat. Dar mi se pare, că vocea ei recitește cu mine această poezie: din ploaie ș și vânt, apusuri de soare și tandrețe. Din flori și sânge, vin si tămâie, din tinerețe. Dintr-o firimitură de pâine, crâmpei din nimic, dealtfel. Am scris această poezie în seara asta în nemarginita-mi disperare. Are culoarea sărmanelor lacrimi vărsate de mine. În acest colț de iarna, în acest murmuit de mare, care ne leagănă. Glasul tău o va spune undeva, unde te va duce. Un altul, pe care nici măcar nu l-am urât. Amintirea mea albastră, parfumul meu divin, eu, te iubesc. Întoarce-te dacă poți, i-am scris aceast poem.
 

Olive Tree from the Mountains

Little olive tree from the mountains,
The wind carries away its flower!
Oh-la-oh-pretty!
Just I am not being taken by anyone
Oh-la-oh-pretty!
There, at my lover's feet.
 
The little olive tree from the mountains
Drops little silver branches.
Oh-la-oh-pretty!
I feel so sorry for my eyes
Oh-la-oh-pretty!
His absence is killing me!
 
Little olive tree from the mountains,
Your leaves are all misshapen!
Oh-la-oh-pretty!
I hope the tongue is misshapen
Oh-la-oh-pretty!
Of those who talk about my life.
 

Am să-ți dărui acea floare

Dulcea mea Ifigenia
trăiește doar din poezie,
apoi are pentru flori o slăbiciune specială.
Eu, care sunt un pătimaș
și îi cunosc idealul,
i-am făcut o propunere originală.
Vino, o scumpo, în mijlocul pajiștii să facem dragoste,
sub cer și în plină creație, inimă lângă inimă!
 
Refren:
Am să-ți dărui acea floare
de o stranie înmiresmare,
ce înflorește, se naște, crește
și se desface la căldură.
Dacă privești puțin,
nu poți spune ”nu”.
N-o strivi, ai grijă,
căci e o floare rococo.
E o chestie rară,
draga mea,
e o floare stranie:
tu o culegi azi, dar
apare peste o zi.
Am să-ți dărui acea floare
de o stranie înmiresmare,
ce înflorește, se naște, crește
și se desface la căldură!
 
Ne iubeam ca niște copii,
culegând floricele,
când un polițai a venit să ne deranjeze.
Mi-a zbierat, cu totul înfuriat:
”Voi striviți răsadul,
și nu pot tolera asemenea ofensă!
Vă sechestrez de-ndată corpul delictului!”
Și atunci am răspuns resemnat:
 
(Refren)
 
Dar am fost luat în râs, ridiculizat
ca un prostănac,
în timp ce frumoasa mea
a plecat cu sticletele*.
Eu rămăsei atunci
cu acea floare în mână,
ce înflorește, se naște, crește
și se desface la căldură!
 

Adevăr amar

Eu trebuie să-ți spun adevărul,
chiar dacă sufletul mă doare.
Nu vreau ca apoi să mă judeci greșit,
pretinzând că am păstrat tăcerea.
 
Știu că e imposibilă iubirea noastră,
pentru că destinul comandă,
și tu vei ști să ierți într-o zi
acest adevăr amar.
 
Jur pentru amândoi
că asta mă costă viața,
că rana va sângera
o eternitate.
 
Poate că mâine ai să înțelegi
că am fost mereu sinceră.
Poate vei afla de la cineva
că eu încă te iubesc.
 
Jur pentru amândoi
că asta mă costă viața,
că rana va sângera
o eternitate.
 
Poate că mâine ai să înțelegi
că am fost mereu sinceră.
Poate vei afla de la cineva
că eu încă te iubesc.
 

My dear

Think on me, my dear, think on me
when the switches have a dig at you in the morning.
I won’t make you warmer the cold
either sweeter the coffee and milk
but think on me
my dear
think on me
Think on me when the wage doesn’t come to you
or when they brush you in the metro at eight and half.
and bring me
embroidered on your blouse
or painted on your red smile.
Swing me
of your earrings.
Border me with your rings
And let me come with you, let me come.
Let me go where you go to, let me go.
My dear, between pleasure and pain
enlaced against a poem
you read in secret.
The lazy town will yawn
when you will indicate the hour and open the office windows
And the birds will affect you
which nest in your hair,
the heart say you :
the bird put in cages, dies.
They bring me in the feathers dreams and beats
when they knock on my panes with their beaks
and tell me
the small white history
which between four walls faded.
 
They squeak
the spring dies,
when it can’t go out for a walk.
Let me go with you, let me go
Let me go where you go to, let me go
my dear, and the face turns red
 
Think we still have
your birds path
to fly it you and me with them.
 

The Mountain Girl from la Vera

There in ,
A league and a half from ,
A mountain girl walks around,
She's tall, blonde and dark-skinned.
 
With a little shotgun on her shoulder,
While she's guarding his cave,
He saw a handsome fellow coming,
He's tall and blond like her.
 
Holding his hand,
She takes him to her cave.
–What are so many crosses for
As well as so many earth mounds?
 
–I killed nine men
Inside my cave,
It could be the same for you
If your love doesn't take me into account.
 
While she was asleep,
The fellow took off like a shot
And in the nearest town,
He reported her.
 
Four justice officials
They came to identify her,
The fellow was ahead
Leading the way, blazing a trail.
 
He saw her up in a pine tree,
Combing her long hair,
He pulled the blunderbuss on her
Then he put a bullet in her.
 
From the waist up,
She had a human body,
From the waist down,
She had mare constitution.
 

The Testament of Amelia

Narrator:
Amelia is sick
The daughter of the good king
Counts come to see her
Counts and noble people
 
Amelia:
Oh, my heart is knotted up!
Like a bunch of carnations...
 
Stepmother:
Daughter, o my daughter
What is that you are suffering from?
 
Amelia:
You know very well, mother
What I'm suffering from.
 
Oh, my heart is knotted up!
Like a bunch of carnations...
 
Stepmother:
Daughter, o my daughter
You should confess
After you've confessed
You'll make your will
 
Amelia:
Oh, my heart is knotted up!
Like a bunch of carnations...
 
I leave a castle to the poor
So they may pray to God (for me)
Four castle to my brother Carlos
Two to the Holy Mother
 
Oh, my heart is knotted up!
Like a bunch of carnations...
 
And to you, o mother
I leave my husband
You may take him in your bedroom
As you've been doing for a long time
 
Oh, my heart is knotted up!
Like a bunch of carnations...
 

Mermaid's Singing

Mermaid's singing when I go to sleep
If I know that I wake up with your love
Mermaid's singing when I go to sleep
If I know your heat wakes me up
 
When you look at me slowly
You make the time stops
Only closing the eyes
I can feel the song
 
I enjoy each second
And don't change them for years
Because you are my joy
Sown inside my heart
 
Mermaid's singing when I go to sleep
If I know that I wake up with your love
Mermaid's singing when I go to sleep
If I know your heat wakes me up
 
If walking down the streets
There are no trees that give shadow
If my smile lights up
The night, more than a lantern
 
And I know that once you walk away
I will be able feeling happy
Knowing that you loved me
The same way as I love you
 
Mermaid's singing when I go to sleep
If I know that I wake up with your love
Mermaid's singing when I go to sleep
If I know your heat wakes me up
 
If walking down the streets
There are no trees that give shadow
If my smile lights up
The night, more than a lantern
And I know that once you walk away
I will be able feeling happy
Knowing that you loved me
The same way as I love you
 
Mermaid's singing when I go to sleep
If I know that I wake up with your love
Mermaid's singing when I go to sleep
If I know your heat wakes me up
If I know your heat wakes me up
If I know your heat wakes me up.
 

Sirra Bunei Speranțe

Sirra Bunei Speranțe, speranța ce cuprinde
In inima Braziliei o mîna de pămînt
În inima celui care se duce, în inima celui care vine
Sirra Bunei Speranțe dragostea mea ultimă
Plec luînd mult dor, dor lăsînd
Ofelițe căzute pe sirra acolo aproape de Dumnezeu
O sirra mea iată timpul despărțirii[,] plec
Lăs lumina privirii tale la lumina lunii
Rămas bun
 
(Instrumental)
 
[Îmi port] în cintarea mea imaginea sirrei
Știu că Isus nu-l pedepsește pe poetul care greșește
Noi poeții greșim pentru că și noi rimăm
Ochii noștri în ochii cuiva care nu vine
Sirra Bunei Speranțe, să n-ai frica
Voi păstra imaginea voastră cu ajutorul lui Dumnezeu.
O sirra mea iată timpul despărțirii[,] plec
Lăs lumina privirii tale la lumina lunii
Rămas bun
 

Etiquette Lessons

Versions: #2
Cultivate good manners
for your bad examples
If you don't want your peers
to point their fingers at you.
 
Dress your base instincts up
in sheep's clothing.
The cowl does not make the monk,
but it sure looks like it does.
 
In public, present yourself friendly,
attentive, considerate,
courteous, thoughtful, polite,
solicitous, accommodating.
 
And when you fuck up, do make sure
to adorn the blunder*
So that, admiringly, the world says
How prettily he fucks up!*
 
Have a smile on your face,
as you swing the whip.
Break the bad news to people,
but wrapped like a present.
 
Tell the world with a bouquet,
that you came to raze it down.
Sign death sentences,
but with spiffy handwriting.
 
Put God as your witness,
and lie creditably.
Make people fall in line,
but without raising your voice.
 
Because at first sight one cannot see
the rottenness of your guts.
Looks can be deceiving
to your own benefit.
 
Listen to me and start taking
lessons of etiquette.
 
Cultivate good manners
wherein you can hide your sins.
Embellish your work clothes with silk
and test the results.
 
Although you might be
- the scum of humanity-
A complete perfect bastard,
but with regal demeanor.
 
Insult with civility,
steal with sophistication,
murder cleanly
and swindle with class.
 
Slander, but without lacking decency,
betray with pizazz,
spray perfume on your foulness
with exquisite etiquette.
 

Mountain of Good Hope

Mountain of Good Hope, hope that settles
In the Heart of Brazil a handful of land
In the heart of who goes, in the heat of who goes
Mountain of Good Hope my last love
I depart leaving longings, longings leaving
Withered fallen on the mountain there close to God
Oh my mountain now's the time of farewell I'm going away
I'm leaving the light of the glance in your moonshine
Good-bye
 
(Instrumental)
 
In my song I carry the memory of the mountain
I know Jesus doesn't punish[,] the poet he was
We poets once were, because we rhyme well
Our eyes in the eyes of someone who's not coming
Mountain of Good Hope, do not be afraid
I will keep your image by the grace of God
Oh my mountain now's the time of farewell I'm going away
I'm leaving the light of the glance in your moonshine
Good-bye
 

Damned Serrat

How you made me laugh
and cry and feel that the party begins,
how you made me happy
far from my country that crushes and stinks.
 
How you achieved to enlighten in your voice
the poet of yesterday, of your broken Spain
and tell me how the very woman
I love went behind your words.
 
Damned Serrat... Damned thief...
You copied the idea I had
right before I wrote it,
damned Serrat... But who could say:
 
Oh, my love, without you I don't understand awakening
Oh, my love, without you my bed is wide.
Oh, my love that keeps me awake honestly.
Between you and me, there's loneliness and a handful of frost.
 
How you made me suffer
for Irene and Manuel and the farewell of Lucia.
How you achieved to lie to me so well,
that I can even believe that today it can be a great day
 
How you achieved so much precision
describing my white and dusty town
if the sacristan haven't seen you there,
nor the priest, nor the officer, nor the dust nor the wind.
 
Damned Serrat... damned song...
Beating at the doors of my heart
that will always be waiting fully open,
beating at your rhythm, like when you sung:
 
Ay... Ay utopia... Sweet as our everyday bread.
 
How you achieved to talk so much about me
and the crazies who love your subject here
All I ever do is thinking of you
when I want to write and the poem isn't born
 
How you achieved to defeat the times,
with my father before, with my daughters now
who thank you for making us see
that from time to time life makes you fall in love.
 
Blessed Serrat... Big brother
of anyone who wants to make a true song
about this time that pushes and destroys
or the little things that happen to us.
 
Blessed trobadour, don't turn off your voice,
what do we do, in this corner
without hearing in your verse the friend embracing,
who can go on and what will be of me if you're far from home.
 

My translations are licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International License. It doesn't apply to the translations with a source.