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Cantares (Caminante, no hay camino) - Joan Manuel Serrat - 1981
Cantares (Caminante, No Hay Camino) -Joan Manuel Serrat -
Todo pasa y todo queda Pero...
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Cantares (Caminante, no hay camino) - Joan Manuel Serrat - 1981
Cantares (Caminante, No Hay Camino) -Joan Manuel Serrat -
Todo pasa y todo queda Pero lo nuestro es pasar. Pasar haciendo camiños Camiños sobre la mar
Nunca perseguí la Gloria, Y dejar en la memoria de los hombres mi canción.
Yo amo los mundos sutiles, Ingrávidos y gentiles, Como pompas de jabón.
Me gusta verlos pintarse De Sol y grana, volar Bajo el cielo azul, temblar Súbitamente y quebrarse.
Nunca perseguí la Gloria...
(Recitado) Camiñante, son tus huellas el camino y nada más. Caminante, no hay camino: se hace camino al andar. Al andar, se hace camiño, y al volver la vista atrás Se ve la senda que nunca se ha de volver a pisar. Camiñante, no hay camiño, sino estelas en la mar.
Hace algun tiempo en ese lugar Donde hoy los bosques se visten de espinos Se oyó la voz de un poeta gritar: "Caminante, no hay camino, se hace camino al andar, Golpe a golpe, verso a verso"
Murió el poeta lejos del hogar Le cubre el polvo de un país vecino Al alejarse le vieron llorar "Caminante no hay camino, se hace camino al andar Golpe a golpe, verso a verso."
Cuando el jilguero no puede cantar Cuando el poeta es un peregrino Cuando de nada nos sirve rezar Caminante no hay camiño, se hace camiño al andar Golpe a golpe, verso a verso Golpe a golpe, verso a verso Golpe a golpe, verso a verso
Songs ( Traveller, there is no route) (free translation)
Everything happens and everything goes But our destiny it is to cross. To walk making ways Ways to the sea
I was never searching for glory, And leaving the memory of my songs to the men
I love subtle worlds, Weightless and gentile, Like soap pomps.
I like to see paint itself them Of Sun and he seeds, to fly Under the blue sky, to shake Suddenly and to become broken.
I was never looking for glory...
(Recited) Traveller, the way is your tracks and nothing else. Traveller, there is no way: we build our way while walking. While walking, there borns a way, and when returning the view back sees the footpath that never is had to return to be above. Traveller, there are ways, but not for those who awake in the sea.
There has been some time in that place Where today the forests get dressed hawthorns The voice of a poet was heard shouting: " Traveller, there is no way, we make the way when walking,
Blow to blow, verse to verse"
The poet died far from home Dust from a neighbour Country covers him
When moving away they saw Him cry " Traveller, there is no way, the way is made while walking
Blow to blow, verse to verse."
When the finch cannot sing When the poet is a pilgrim When there's no mention of it
It makes us sense for us to say Traveller, there is no way, the way is made while walking
Blow to blow, verse to verse Blow to blow, verse to verse Blow to blow, verse to verse
(http://www.jmserrat.com - sitio oficial de Joan Manuel Serrat http://www.trovadores.net/ca.php?NM=10 - cancionero de Joan Manuel Serrat
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Hope you enjoy the channel. :)
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Marcus
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Eva
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