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Last Sunday while the male’s family the most spent their time suffering in front TV I took care of myself with a glass of hot milk and watching a movie.
I don’t like to express my opinion about anything whitout knowing the subject for that reason and because nowadays, here in Spain, is a topical subject I chose Woody Allen’s “Vicky, Cristine, Barcelona”.
Advice- If you are working don’t click “read more” this post include a song. Probably today it would be better read me at home.
I have begun this article a lot of times, in the beginning I was furious, furious against Woody Allen, furious against Bardem, furious against worldwide to taking part in such real bore.
But later I thought that it is not worth it. The best I could do was talking you about Barcelona the true Barcelona, the town where I was born. I would talk you about her history, her people, her streets. But this is just impossible to do in the distance.
In fact, the only way to know a city is walking along its streets by the hand of a friend who knows and loves it.
At the end I decided to invite you walking with me along Barcelona’s streets by the hand of Joan Manuel Serrat’s song “Barcelona i jo” (Barcelona and me)
Originally this song’s lyrics is on Catalan. Translating a poet, in fact Serrat is a poet, is a very hard work, if you understand something that would be a miracle.
Thank you and enjoy the walk.
See you in Barcelona.
| CATALÀ | ENGLISH (MORE OR LESS) |
| A mida que arriben homes es va fent gran la ciutat. A mida que els peus li creixen se li fa petit el cap. A mida que creix oblida, inflada de vanitat, que sota l´asfalt hi ha la terra dels avantpassats. A mida que perd la mida es va omplint de presoners, de robinsons d´estar per casa, nàufrags enmig del merder que viuen vides petites en petits móns de formigó. Així estan les coses entre Barcelona i jo. Mil perfums i mil colors. Mil cares té Barcelona. La que en Cerdà somnià, la que va esguerrar en Porcioles, la que devoren les rates, la que volen els coloms, la que es remulla a la platja, la que s´enfila als turons, la que per Sant Joan es crema, la que compta per dansar, la que se´m gira d´esquena i la que em dóna la mà. A mida que la camino sota els plecs del seu vestit i li repasso les arrugues amb la punteta del dit em xiulen les cantonades aquella vella cançó que només sabem la lluna, Barcelona i jo. L´estimo nua i sencera relliscant entre els dos rius, amb les seves fantasies i les seves cicatrius. Me l´estimo amb la fal·lera d´un caloio enamorat perquè és viva i perquè es queixa la meva ciutat. Mil perfums i mil colors. Mil cares té Barcelona. La que en Cerdà somnià, la que va esguerrar en Porcioles, la que devoren les rates, la que volen els coloms, la que es remulla a la platja, la que s´enfila als turons, la que per Sant Joan es crema, la que compta per dansar, la que se´m gira d´esquena i la que em dóna la mà. |
As people arrive the town grows As the town feet grow its head shrinks As the town grows, vanity swelled, she forgets under the asphalt, there is her ancestor’s land. As the town goes beyond her own limits she is being filled with prisoners, small Robinsons, shipwrecked in the middle of the row they live their small lives into small concrete worlds. That’s the situation between Barcelona and me. Thousand perfumes and thousands colours thousand faces Barcelona has, the one Cerdà dreamed The one Porcioles spoiled, the one rats devour the one pigeons fly over the one refresh on the beach the one climb the hills the one burned oneself on St. John’s evening the one count when dances the one turns one’s back on me the one held out her hand to me As I walk across her streets, while, under her dress, I caress her wrinkles with my finger I listen the corners whistling that old song whose only know the moon, Barcelona and me. I love her entirely and naked slithering between both rivers with her fantasies and her scars I love her as a young recruit in love because she is alive because she moans, because she is my town. Thousand perfumes and thousands colours thousand faces Barcelona has, the one Cerdà dreamed The one Porcioles spoiled, the one rats devour that one pigeons fly over the one refresh on the beach the one climb the hills the one burned oneself on St. John’s evening the one count when dances the one turns one’s back on me the one held out her hand to me |
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Your Barcelona is beautiful ~ I haven’t seen Vicky Christina Barcelona, so I can’t say. I love the song ~ a voice that one can fall in love with!! Now you must tell me a secret ~ psst, when is your birthday?
Mil y cinco mil caras y todas ellas reconocibles en la descripción que de mi ciudad hace Serrat.
Lástima que desde el domingo a Barcelona le faltará la cara de Pepe.
Agrair-te l’esforç per la traducció de la canço del Serrat,ens descriu la nostre Barcelona de una manera magistral.