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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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