Luis Eduardo Aute — Somnis De La Plaça Rovira song lyrics and translation
The page contains the lyrics and English translation of the song "Somnis De La Plaça Rovira" by Luis Eduardo Aute.
Lyrics
A mi padre
y a Climent Comulada, in memoriam.
A Jordi Martín, a la familia Vall
y a todos los vecinos de la Plaça Rovira.
A mi prima Luisita Gozalbo
y a mi familia catalana, con profundo amor.
De vegades, els somnis
viuen la realitat
i a l’invers hi ha vida
que fa real ho somiat
con aquesta nit dolça
d’un agost d’envelats
pels carrers fent la festa
que em transporta al passat,
un passat com un barri
de futurs sense espills
on van viure els meus avis,
on van néixer els seus fills.
Tinc records del meu pare
quan, després del treball,
ens baixàvem a beure
les orxates d’en Vall.
Plaça Rovira, vella Plaça Rovira
del meu barri de Gràcia,
i el meu cor adormit,
Plaça Rovira, em bategues guspires
d’un foc que ja era cendra…
I, més que fum,
ets tota llum
aquesta nit.
I a la nit ens n’anàvem
per canviar un poc d’ambient,
fins el Bar Comulada,
el palau d’en Climent
on las ensaladillas,
de la seva patent,
feien que el tast dels somnis
fos un gust pel client.
La farmàcia d’en Pere
i el quiosc deien «prou,
a tancar que ja arriba
el darrer trenta-nou».
I el Cinema Rovira,
va ser un somni guarnit
amb Charlot fent rialles
pels grans i els més petits…
Plaça Rovira, vella Plaça Rovira…
I al primer son del somni,
quan el temps va partir,
el meu pare em deia:
«anem a casa a dormir».
I en silenci tornàvem
lentament cap amunt
a la torre dels avis
i tots els seus difunts.
I entre el pou i las pedres
del jardí de Massens,
la galàxia ens plorava
pluges de Sant Llorenç.
I el meu pare em parlava
assenyalant-me el cel:
«fes-li, abans dels teus somnis,
un petó al teu estel».
Plaça Rovira, vella Plaça Rovira…
Lyrics translation
To my father
and to Clement Comulada, in memoriam.
Jordi Martín, the family Valley
y a todos los vecinos de la Plaza Rovira.
Me premium Luisita Gozalbo
y a mi familia catalana, con profundo amor.
Sometimes, the dreams
they live the reality
and on the reverse there is life
that makes it real you dreamed about
with tonight's sweet
a August of tents
the streets by the party
that transports me to the past,
a past as a neighborhood
futures without mirrors
where lived my grandparents,
where were born their children.
I have memories of my father
when, after work,
we we're coming down to drink
the orxates in the Valley.
Plaça Rovira, vella Plaça Rovira
in my neighborhood of Gràcia,
and my heart asleep,
Plaça Rovira I lates guspires
a fire that was already ash…
And, the more that smoke,
you are all light
tonight.
And in the night we went
to change a bit of atmosphere,
until the Bar Comulada,
the palace on Clement
where las ensaladillas,
of their patent,
made the taste of dreams
it was a taste by the customer.
The pharmacy Peter
and the kiosk said "enough,
to close that already reaches
the last thirty-nine".
And the Film Rovira,
it was a dream, adorned
with Charlot by laughter
by the large and the smaller…
Plaça Rovira, vella Plaça Rovira…
And the first son of the dream,
when the time was from,
my father told me:
"let's go home to sleep".
And in silence we went back to
slowly up
in the tower of the grandparents
and all of their deceased.
And between the pit and the stones
the garden of Massens,
the galaxy we cried
rains of San Lorenzo.
And my father and I spoke about
pointing me to the sky:
"check him, before of your dreams,
a kiss on your kite".
Plaça Rovira, vella Plaça Rovira…