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Joan Manuel Serrat-Penelope

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Published on Sep 29, 2010

one of his greatest hits.
The subject of the song seems to be inspired by the great Greek tragedy, Ulysses by Homer.
In few words, the story talks about Penelope, the wife of Odysseus (or Ulysses in Roman mythology), the king of Ithaca, who left his kingdom to fight in the Trojan War. She waited twenty years for Ulysses to return, doing all kind of tricks to avoid more than 100 marriage proposals. When she couldn't find any excuses to refuse them, she announced all the suitors that she will choose a husband as soon as she will finish weaving a burial shroud for Odysseus's father. She worked on it for three years and what she was doing during the day, was undoing the night. The return of Ulysses put an end to her sufferings.
Penelope is most of the time associated with faithfulness, loyalty and fidelity.
It's a nice story and the girl from Joan Manuel Serrat's song seems to be like Penelope, the queen of IthacaJ)). Faithfull and loyal to the one she loves.

Music by Augusto Algueró,Lyrics by Joan Manuel Serrat.
Translation by Coby Lubliner




Penelope, with her brown leather pocketbook,
Dressed in her finest Sunday look,
With high-heel shoes over her stockings.
Penelope is sitting on a station bench while
She waits for any train to come by;
Her Spanish fan is rocking.
In the town they say that one day a traveling man
Stopped her clock on an afternoon in the springtime.
"Fare you well, my love, don't cry for me, for I'll be back
Well before you see leaves falling from the willows.
Think of me, I'll come back for you!"
Poor wretched girl, since the clock of your childhood stopped dead
On an April day with skies of lead,
The day your lover left you.
Now all the flowers in your garden have wilted away,
There's no willow on Main Street today
For you, Penelope.

Penelope, so sad from waiting all these years,
Her eyes still shine each time she hears
A distant whistle blowing.
Penelope looks at them one by one as they walk,
She sees their faces and hears them talk;
To her they're puppets crowing.
In the town they say that one day the traveler came back,
Found her there on her green pine bench at the station,
And he called: "Penelope, my faithful love, my peace,
You can stop weaving those dreams inside your mind now.
Look at me, I'm your love, I've returned!"
She smiled at him, with her eyes full of yesterday's mist.
"No, his face and his skin weren't like this,
You're not who I'm expecting."
And there she stayed, with her brown leather pocketbook,
Still dressed in her high-heeled Sunday look,
Still seated by the tracks

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