Joan Manuel Serrat — Algo Personal song lyrics and translation
The page contains the lyrics and English translation of the song "Algo Personal" by Joan Manuel Serrat.
Lyrics
Probablemente en su pueblo se les recordará
como a cachorros de buenas personas,
que hurtaban flores para regalar a su mamá
y daban de comer a las palomas.
Probablemente que todo eso debe ser verdad,
aunque es más turbio cómo y de qué manera
llegaron esos individuos a ser lo que son
ni a quién sirven cuando alzan las banderas.
Hombres de paja que usan la colonia y el honor
para ocultar oscuras intenciones:
tienen doble vida, son sicarios del mal.
Entre esos tipos y yo hay algo personal.
Rodeados de protocolo, comitiva y seguridad,
viajan de incógnito en autos blindados
a sembrar calumnias, a mentir con naturalidad,
a colgar en las escuelas su retrato.
Se gastan más de lo que tienen en coleccionar
espías, listas negras y arsenales;
resulta bochornoso verles fanfarronear
a ver quién es el que la tiene más grande.
Se arman hasta los dientes en el nombre de la paz,
juegan con cosas que no tienen repuesto
y la culpa es del otro si algo les sale mal.
Entre esos tipos y yo hay algo personal.
Y como quien en la cosa, nada tiene que perder.
Pulsan la alarma y rompen las promesas
y en nombre de quien no tienen el gusto de conocer
nos ponen la pistola en la cabeza.
Se agarran de los pelos, pero para no ensuciar
van a cagar a casa de otra gente
y experimentan nuevos métodos de masacrar,
sofisticados y a la vez convincentes.
No conocen ni a su padre cuando pierden el control,
ni recuerdan que en el mundo hay niños.
Nos niegan a todos el pan y la sal.
Entre esos tipos y yo hay algo personal.
Pero, eso sí, los sicarios no pierden ocasión
de declarar públicamente su empeño
en propiciar un diálogo de franca distensión
que les permita hallar un marco previo
que garantice unas premisas mínimas
que faciliten crear los resortes
que impulsen un punto de partida sólido y capaz
de este a oeste y de sur a norte,
donde establecer las bases de un tratado de amistad
que contribuya a poner los cimientos
de una plataforma donde edificar
un hermoso futuro de amor y paz.
(Pero eso sí, con qué destreza esos tahúres de postín
reparten juego con cartas marcadas:
nada por allá, nada por aquí,
visto y no visto y nos la meten doblada.
Tienen más de un problema para cada solución,
sin que te enteres te roban los calzones
y luego te dicen que toca apretarse el cinturón
cuando en la bolsa caen sus acciones.
Hijos del demonio, no tienen otro dios
que la codicia y más rey que el mercado
ni otra enseña que la de curso legal.
Entre esos tipos y yo hay algo personal.
(Grazie a Tiziano Debernardi per questo testo)
Lyrics translation
Probably in their village they will be reminded
like puppies of good people,
who stole flowers to give to their mother
and they fed the pigeons.
Probably all that must be true,
although it is more murky how and in what way
these individuals became what they are
or who they serve when they raise flags.
Straw men wearing cologne and honor
to hide dark intentions:
they have double lives, they are evil killers.
There's something personal between those guys and me.
Surrounded by protocol, entourage and security,
they travel incognito in armored cars
to sow slander, to lie naturally,
to hang his portrait in schools.
They spend more than they have on collecting
spies, blacklists and arsenals;
it's disgraceful to see them bragging
let's see who's the one with the biggest.
They arm themselves to the teeth in the name of peace,
they play with things that don't have spare parts
and it's each other's fault if something goes wrong with them.
There's something personal between those guys and me.
And like Who in the thing, nothing has to lose.
They push the alarm and break the promises
and on behalf of those who do not have the pleasure of meeting
they put the gun to our heads.
They cling to the hairs, but so as not to get dirty
they're gonna shit at other people's House.
and they experiment with new methods of massacring,
sophisticated yet convincing.
They don't even know their father when they lose control,
they don't even remember that there are children in the world.
They deny us all bread and salt.
There's something personal between those guys and me.
But, yes, the Hitmen do not miss an opportunity
to publicly declare their commitment
in fostering a dialogue of Frank relaxation
that allows them to find a framework
ensuring minimum premises
that make it easier to create the springs
that drive a strong and capable starting point
east to West and south to North,
where to lay the foundations of a treaty of friendship
to help lay the foundation
of a platform to build
a beautiful future of love and peace.
(But yes, with what skill those tahuras of Postin
Deal game with marked cards:
nothing over there, nothing over here,
seen and not seen and they put it in the back.
They have more than one problem for each solution,
without you knowing, they steal your pants.
and then they tell you it's time to tighten your seatbelt
when the stock market falls.
Children of the devil, they have no other God
that greed and more King than the market
there's no teaching other than legal tender.
There's something personal between those guys and me.
(Thanks to Tiziano Debernardi for this text)