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The Potter

Miguel Poveda

El Alfarero

Fatigas grandes pasé,
Con lo que yo te he querío
Te tengo que aborrecer.

Como revienta un cañón
A fuerzas de darle golpes,
Así voy a reventar yo.

El día que yo te coja
Te voy a cantar las cuarenta,
Tienes muy mala lengua
Y tó lo que dices te lo inventas.

Quiero que me formes
Como el alfarero,
Hazme como quieras,
Conforma tus deseos
Y diséñame, mi amor,
A tu modelo;
Tú eres la gran artista
Y yo barro sin precio.

Hay muchos defectos,
Roturas por dentro,
Que causan en mi vida
Tristezas y lamentos;
Es mi cuerpo inservible
Y ya no hay nada bueno,
Necesito tu mano
Que forme, te lo ruego.

No hay que me guste más
Que caminar por los caminos
Con la luna de graná.

Que te quiero y tú no lo sabes,
La culpa tienes de todos mis males.

The Potter

I went through great hardships,
With all the love I had for you
I have to hate you now.

Like a cannon bursting
From being hit repeatedly,
That's how I'm going to burst.

The day I catch you
I'm going to give you a piece of my mind,
You have a very bad tongue
And everything you say is made up.

I want you to shape me
Like the potter,
Make me as you wish,
Shape your desires
And design me, my love,
According to your model;
You are the great artist
And I am priceless clay.

There are many flaws,
Breaks inside,
Causing sadness and lament
In my life;
My body is useless
And there is nothing good left,
I need your hand
To shape me, I beg you.

There's nothing I like more
Than walking along the roads
With the pomegranate moon.

That I love you and you don't know it,
You are to blame for all my troubles.

Escrita por: Antonio Núñez ‘el Pulga’ / José Quevedo ‘bolita’ / Miguel Poveda