Quien Te Lo Iba a Decir
En tus ojos habitan olivares
de tierra cenicienta es tu garganta
morada habitual de las verdades
que solo son verdad si tu las cantas
Cigarra de la acera incomprendida
juglar de la derrota incorregible
guitarra callejera de la esquina
cara de sacristan verso terrible
Estribillo
Quien te lo iba a decir
veinte años antes
banda sonora de los viandantes
de las bocas de metro de madrid
Quien te lo iba a decir
tan poca cosa
que la cibeles se iba poner celosa
porque ya nunca cantas por alli.
Quijote en un mundo de ambiciosos
azote del poder establecido
que busca a Dulcinea del Toboso
se liga a Jimena en el camino.
Podrias haber sido no lo dudo
banquero, presidente del gobierno
pero eres incapaz desde pequeño
de llevarte ni el lapiz que no es tuyo.
Estribillo
Gitano que regala su talento
a causas que requieren poesia
veleta que obedece un solo viento
sereno de calle melancolia
Quevedo con maneras de Bob dylan
amigo inseparable de la luna
de acordes y de versos tu fortuna
casta y figura digan lo que digan
Estribillo
En tus ojos habitan olivares
de tierra cenicienta es tu garganta
morada habitual de las verdades
que solo son verdad si tu las cantas
Who Would Have Told You
In your eyes olive groves dwell
of ashen earth is your throat
habitual dwelling of truths
that are only true if you sing them
Cicada of the misunderstood sidewalk
minstrel of incorrigible defeat
corner street guitar
care of sacristan terrible verse
Chorus
Who would have told you
twenty years before
soundtrack of passersby
from the Madrid metro mouths
Who would have told you
such a small thing
that Cibeles would get jealous
because you no longer sing there.
Don Quixote in a world of ambitious
scourge of established power
seeking Dulcinea del Toboso
flirts with Jimena on the way.
You could have been, I have no doubt
banker, president of the government
but you are incapable from a young age
to take even the pencil that is not yours.
Chorus
Gypsy who gives his talent
to causes that require poetry
weathervane that obeys a single wind
serene of street melancholy
Quevedo with Bob Dylan ways
inseparable friend of the moon
of chords and verses your fortune
caste and figure say what they say.
Chorus
In your eyes olive groves dwell
of ashen earth is your throat
habitual dwelling of truths
that are only true if you sing them