English translation of Cancion para un poeta by José Luis Perales. What does Cancion para un poeta mean in english
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Cancion para un poeta and many other song lyrics of José Luis Perales translated into english can be found in Translate Lyrics! What does Cancion para un poeta mean in english?
Besides the lyric of the song Cancion para un poeta in english, you will also find Cancion para un poeta translated into Portuguese, French, German or other languages.
Besides the lyric of the song Cancion para un poeta in english, you will also find Cancion para un poeta translated into Portuguese, French, German or other languages.
Cancion para un poeta by José Luis Perales (original lyric)
¿Por qué has hecho sonar hoy las campanas?
¿Por qué has abandonado las callejas que te vieron
pasar día tras día?
¿Por qué te has ido, amigo Federico?
¿Por qué se queda Cuenca sin poeta?
Dormida
bajo los sauces del río que pasa;
bajo el murmullo del viento, la casa
de un poeta de mi ciudad.
Dichosa
la soledad salvaje que goza,
bajo el feliz compás de la hojas
de los álamos, al soplar el viento.
Poeta que cantas a mi ciudad, escucha mi voz
y dime si yo podré, servirte de trovador;
porque en tus poemas tiembla mi voz
y se recrea,
pensando en aquel rincón
de nuestra tierra.
Mañana
escucharé doblar las campanas
y de nuestra ciudad, las ventanas
te darán su adiós de laurel.
Poeta
el viento llevará mi tristeza;
cubriré mi rosal y mi hiedra,
con un sudario de crespón morado.
Poeta que buscas otro lugar sobre las nubes;
descuida que tu rosal jamás se marchitará
y en cada calleja de tu ciudad, en cada piedra
oculto en cada rincón,
habrá un poema, dormido
bajo los sauces del río que pasa;
bajo el murmullo del viento y tu casa,
poeta de mi ciudad.
Cancion para un poeta by José Luis Perales (english translation)
Why did you ring the bells today?
Why have you left the alleys that saw you
spend day after day?
Why have you left, friend Federico?
Why does Cuenca remain without a poet?
Asleep
under the willows of the passing river;
Under the murmur of the wind, the house
of a poet from my city.
Blissful
the wild loneliness that he enjoys,
under the happy compass of the leaves
of the poplars, when the wind blows.
Poet you sing to my city, listen to my voice
and tell me if I can, serve as troubadour;
because in your poems my voice trembles
and recreates,
thinking about that corner
of our land.
morning
I will listen to bend the bells
and from our city, the windows
They will give you their laurel goodbye.
Poet
the wind will carry my sadness;
I will cover my rosebush and my ivy,
with a purple crepe shroud.
Poet you are looking for another place on the clouds;
neglect that your rosebush will never wither
and in every alley of your city, in every stone
hidden in every corner,
there will be a poem, asleep
under the willows of the passing river;
Under the murmur of the wind and your house,
poet of my city.
Only among all we can make this a better place :)
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