CANÇÓ DE MATINADA (DAWN SONG)

Music and lyrics by Joan Manuel Serrat
Translation by Coby Lubliner

Ens ho ha de dir la veu tremolosa i trista d’un campanar. Un cop de llum i el crit d’una garsa que ha despertat amb fam i busca per entre blats i civades qualsevol cosa per omplir el pap. O potser un gall que dins la cort canta: la nit és morta i ja es fa clar. Mentre jo canto, de matinada, la vila és adormida encara. S’han despertat mullades les fulles del camp d’alfals veí. S’espolsen l’aigua de la rosada mentre que arriba la matinada i el sol que les escalfa fins que les tallin d’un cop de falç. Alcen la testa mullada i fresca. Per a caure a terra massa temps hi ha. Dintre la vila ja plora un nen i pels afores corren els bens. Amb el sarró i la bóta a l’esquena, amb un bastó a la mà, se’n va el pastor i el seu gos d’atura, se’n van cap unes altres pastures. Trencant rius i cabanyes a les muntanyes volen tornar. Surt amb l’aurora, cal sortir d’hora: el camí que han de fer és molt llarg. Cap a la vila ja ve el pagès, la bossa buida i el carro ple de roig tomàquet i de verdures collides del seu hort. La mula sua i el carro crida i l’home tanca els ulls i somnia mentre el sol es lleva d’un llit d’alzines, enlluernant les velletes que pansidetes, cap a l’església van caminant. I ara jo canto de matinada, la vila és adormida encara.

Trembling and sad, the voice of a church bell Tells us that dawn is near. A gleam of light and the screech of a magpie That woke up hungry and is hunting In fields of wheat and of oats for Anything edible that might appear. Or else a cock that crows in the barnyard: The night is over and day is here. But while at dawn I’m singing so roundly, The village still is sleeping soundly. Leaves of alfalfa in the next field have Woken up soaking wet. Water of dewdrops they’re busy shaking While dawn arrives and the sun is waking So it can later warm them Till with the sickle they get cut down. Up go their heads, they’re Cool and and they’re wet. There’s Plenty of time till they fall to the ground. In town a baby already cries While all around the sheep scurry by. His walking stick in his hand and on his Back his canteen and his pack, Off goes the shepherd to find new pastures; His faithful dog will follow his master. Passing rivers and cabins, Into the mountains they’re heading back. Up with the pearly Dawn, they leave early: They have to follow a long, long track. And now the farmer is coming to town; His purse is empty, his cart’s laden down With red tomatoes and vegetables freshly Picked from his garden plot. His mule is sweating, his cart is creaking; He shuts his eyes and soon he is sleeping While the sun is getting Up from a bed of oaks, shedding light On old ladies, Withered and faded, Walking to church for the morning rite. And now at dawn I’m singing so roundly, The village still is sleeping soundly.

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