Joaquin Sabina — Mi Primo El Nano song lyrics and translation
The page contains the lyrics and English translation of the song "Mi Primo El Nano" by Joaquin Sabina.
Lyrics
Tengo yo un primo que es todo un maestro
de lo mío, de lo tuyo, de lo nuestro;
un lujo para el alma y el oído,
un modo de vengarse del olvido.
Boca que mira,
vecino de Estambul, rey de Algeciras.
Viene del Poble Sec ese atorrante
universal, charnego y trashumante,
que saca, cuando menos te lo esperas,
palomas de la paz de su chistera.
Y, cuando canta,
le tiembla el corazón en la garganta.
Harto ya de estar harto de las fronteras
va pidiendo escaleras para subir
de tu falda a tu blusa, toca madera:
tendría que estar prohibido un fulano así.
Detrás esta la gente que necesita
su música bendita más que comer
y el siglo que deshoja su margarita.
Yo, de joven, quisiera ser como él.
Tengo yo un primo que es primo de todos
cada cual a su forma y a su modo;
loco hidalgo con yelmo de Mambrino
que no teme a gigantes ni a molinos
y cuando gana
el Barça cree que hay Dios y es azulgrana.
Quépoca seriedad, quémal ejemplo
para los mercaderes de los templos
ese alquimista de las emociones
que cura las heridas con canciones.
Mi primo el Nano,
que no me toca nada y es mi hermano.
Harto ya de estar harto de las fronteras
va pidiendo escaleras para subir
de tu falda a tu blusa, toca madera:
tendría que esta prohibido un fulano así.
Detrás esta la gente que necesita
su música bendita más que comer
y el siglo que deshoja su margarita.
Yo, de joven, quisiera ser como es mi primo Joan Manuel.
Lyrics translation
I have a cousin who is quite a teacher
mine, yours, ours;
a luxury for the soul and the ear,
a way to get back at Oblivion.
Mouth looking,
neighbor of Istanbul, King of Algeciras.
It comes from the Poble Sec that jamming
universal, meaty and transhumant,
that brings out, when you least expect it,
doves of peace from his punch.
And, when he sings,
his heart is shaking in his throat.
Tired of being tired of borders
he's asking for stairs to climb
from your skirt to your blouse, touch wood:
a guy like that should be banned.
Behind are the people who need
his music blessed more than eat
and the century that he uncovers his margarita.
I, as a young man, would like to be like him.
I have a cousin who is everyone's cousin
each in its own form and in its own way;
loco hidalgo with Mambrino's helmet
who fears neither Giants nor Mills
and when he wins
Barca believes there is God and is blue.
What a serious time, what an example
for the merchants of the temples
that Alchemist of emotions
he heals wounds with songs.
My cousin the dwarf,
that I don't touch anything and he's my brother.
Tired of being tired of borders
he's asking for stairs to climb
from your skirt to your blouse, touch wood:
I should have banned a guy like that.
Behind are the people who need
his music blessed more than eat
and the century that he uncovers his margarita.
I, as a young man, would like to be like my cousin Joan Manuel.