Alfredo Zitarrosa — Coplas del Canto song lyrics and translation
The page contains the lyrics and English translation of the song "Coplas del Canto" by Alfredo Zitarrosa.
Lyrics
Canto por son o songa vale la pena
Puede cantar milongas o cantar plenas
Porque la copla dice que el canto empieza
Cuando el canto de todos se le endereza
Venga el canto a su fuente
Viva a la sombra
Del que la tiene enfrente
Mas no la nombra
No hay cantor que no cante porque lo escuchen
Pero la copla espera a que desembuche
Porque la copla es chorro de aquella fuente
Donde el canto y el pueblo forman torrente
Y el cantor consentido, mejor se anime
A cantar algún verso que lo lastime
De tanto vivir frente
Del cementerio
No me asusta la muerte
Ni su misterio
Me hacen vivir tus ojos
Y tus maneras
Ponte mi clavel rojo
Que no se muera
Cante el cantor su copla de tal manera
Que al cantarla reviva su vida entera
Hay cantores que lucen voces grandotas
Pero no cantan versos de pocas notas
Y hay algunos que cantan mejor que otros
Pero todos los cantos son de nosotros
Como los pareceres
Con las razones
Se juntan las mujeres
Con los varones
Cada vez que me acuerdo de la Florida
Se me hacen cuesta abajo los cuesta arriba
Que se tenga por cierto la copla dice
Lo que en el canto abierto finque raíces
Porque verso nacido en esa vertiente
Vive con otros versos entre la gente
Cuando el pueblo las canta recién empieza
La vida de las coplas y su certeza
Cantar canto de nadie
Mejor que nada
Para el cantor no hay copla
Mejor amada
Cuando el canto es tristeza
Mal contenida
Se sube a la cabeza
Mala bebida
Vale más una endecha mal hilvanada
Que cantar coplas hechas muy bien pensadas
Nadie sabe en qué tiempo fueron paridas
Las coplas de mi pueblo mejor nacidas;
Trillo abierto en el campo por muchas huellas
Las palabras de todos viven en ellas
Hay cantos como flores
Mal afinados
Suenan mucho mejores
Que bien cantados
Venga el canto a su fuente
Viva a la sombra
Del que la tiene enfrente
Mas no la nombra
(Los textos en cursiva corresponden a partes recitadas)
Lyrics translation
Singing by son or songa is worth it
You can sing milongas or sing full
Because the copla says The Singing begins
When the song of all is straightened
Come singing to your fountain
Live in the shade
The one in front of her
But he doesn't name it.
There is no singer who does not sing because they hear it
But the copla waits for him to spit
Because the copla is a jet from that fountain
Where the song and the village form a torrent
And the spoiled singer, better cheer up
To sing some verse that hurts him
So much to live in front of
From the cemetery
I'm not afraid of death.
Nor its mystery
They make me live your eyes
And your ways
Put on my red carnation
Let him not die
Sing the singer his copla in such a way
That by singing it he relives his whole life
There are singers who sound big voices
But they do not sing verses of few notes
And there are some who sing better than others
But all the songs are from us
As the opinions
With the reasons
Women come together
With men
Every time I remember Florida
They make me downhill the uphill
That you have by the way the copla says
What in the open Ridge estate roots
Because verse born on that side
Live with other verses among the people
When the village sings them it just starts
The life of the couplets and their certainty
Sing no one's song
Better than nothing
For the singer there is no copla
Best beloved
When singing is sadness
Poorly contained
It goes to the head
Bad drink
It's more like a poorly-spun louse.
That singing couplas made very well thought out
No one knows when they were born.
The best born couplets of my people;
Open trill in the field by many footprints
Everyone's words live in them
There are songs like flowers
Poorly tuned
They sound much better
How well sung
Come singing to your fountain
Live in the shade
The one in front of her
But he doesn't name it.
(The texts in italics correspond to parts recited)