Helena
Fa dies que
abocat al balcó
he perdut el jornal
xerrant amb un pardal
més avorrit que jo.
O mirant com
s'esfulla un alzinar
olorant romaní.
Com tornen a florir
i es tornen a esfullar.
Fa dies que no sé quants dies fa.
Fa dies que m'estic dient... demá
i espero...
i espero.
Vivint amb res.
Treballant per no res
i un dia com si res
morir-me de no res.
Adéu siau. Mercès.
Al fons d'un bar
fotent-me un perfumat
per escalfar-me el cor
mentre arriba la mort
a jugar al subastat.
Fa dies que no sé quants dies fa.
Fa dies que m'estic dient... demà
i espero...
i espero...
i espero...
Abocat al balcó
espero.
Despullant l'horitzó
espero.
Espero per Nadal
i per la Magdalena
pel dia i per la nit
que torni Helena
que torni Helena...
i és que quan passa pel meu carrer
fins el geranis li cluquen l'ull.
L'aire es fa tebi amb el seu alè
i les llambordes miren amunt
sa pell morena.
Quan passa Helena.
Quan ella mira saps que la font
quan ella vol, la dóna.
Quan ella plora, saps què és el dol.
Quan ella calla, tot jo tremolo.
Quan ella estima, l'amor pren vol...
I entre teulades es gronxa el sol
i els passarells dels fils de la llum
miren gelosos com riu i es mou.
Color d'espera llarga i perfum
de lluna plena
la meva Helena.
La meva Helena...
però...
Fa dies que
l'estar dret em fa mal
el reuma em trenca els dits
i ha fugit el darrer pardal.
Helena
For days
leaning on the balcony
I've lost my wage
chatting with a sparrow
more bored than me.
Or watching
how an oak tree sheds its leaves
smelling rosemary.
How they bloom again
and shed once more.
For days I don't know how many days ago.
For days I've been saying... tomorrow
and I hope...
and I hope.
Living with nothing.
Working for nothing
and one day as if nothing
to die for nothing.
Goodbye. Thank you.
At the back of a bar
getting drunk on perfume
to warm my heart
while death arrives
to play auction.
For days I don't know how many days ago.
For days I've been saying... tomorrow
and I hope...
and I hope...
and I hope...
Leaning on the balcony
I hope.
Stripping the horizon
I hope.
I hope for Christmas
and for the Magdalene
for day and for night
that Helena returns
that Helena returns...
and when she passes by my street
even the geraniums wink at her.
The air warms with her breath
and the cobblestones look up
to her tanned skin.
When Helena passes by.
When she looks, you know the source
when she wants, she gives.
When she cries, you know what pain is.
When she's silent, I tremble all over.
When she loves, love takes flight...
And between rooftops the sun swings
and the walkways of light threads
jealously watch how it laughs and moves.
Color of long wait and perfume
of full moon
my Helena.
My Helena...
but...
For days
standing hurts me
rheumatism breaks my fingers
and the last sparrow has flown away.
Escrita por: J. M. Serrat