Le métèque
Georges Moustaki| La versione inglese di Rod McKuen | |
| EL METEC Amb aquest aire de metec, jueu errant, pastor grec, i els meus cabells als quatre vents; i aquest mirar tan indecís, ara amargant, ara endolcit, de dies bons i de mal temps; potser faig pinta d’haver estat lladre de fruites i de blats, de camps que acaricia el sol, però és que m’hi ajec i hi faig l’amor com hi he jugat i m’hi he perdut, sense mai perdre-m’hi del tot. Amb aquest aire de metec, jueu errant, pastor grec, i els meus cabells als quatre vents, i aquests meus ulls descolorits, verdosos, blaus, mig enfosquits; em faig mirall de tots aquells amb qui he sofert, amb qui he gaudit, perquè el meu cor no s’ha rendit ni penedit d’anar més lluny, d’on algú diu que ens aturem si no volem anar a l’infern, cosa que mai no m’he cregut. Amb aquest aire de metec jueu errant, pastor grec, i els meus cabells als quatre vents, vinc a trobar-te i a sentir com és d’immens aquest camí que encara tornaria a fer; camí de totes les olors del gessamí dels meus records d’Alexandria i d’Istanbul; i com voldria perdre-m’hi i enamorar-m’hi com ahir ans que se m’acluquin els ulls. I com voldria perdre-m’hi i enamorar-m’hi com ahir ans que se m’acluquin els ulls. | WITHOUT A WORRY IN THE WORLD You all have seen the vagabond as he went singing in the dawn without a worry in the world I've never seen a gipsy who Could be a gipsy through and through and have a worry in the world All merry men are minstrels then Who keep their troubles locked inside And don't inflict them on the world Isn't there something to be said For leaving your troubles home in bed And never taking them to the road The sailor cruising into town Is not afraid to be a clown without a worry in the world No cowboy with an ounce of pride Will mount his horse and ride and have a worry in the world All merry men are minstrels then Who keep their troubles locked inside And don't inflict them on the world Isn't there something to be said For leaving your troubles home in bed And never taking them to the road If I must love then let me love As thought I've never loved before without a worry in the world If I must go then let me go And only gently close the door All merry men are minstrels then Who keep their troubles locked inside And don't inflict them on the world Isn't there something to be said for having had someone instead of never have had any at all Without a worry in the world without a worry in the world Yes I've got troubles of my own I'll try to solve them all alone I won't inflict them on the world |
