The boxer

Hoy llevo todo el día oyendo una y otra vez "The boxer", de Simon and Garfunkel.

Habitualmente suelo traducir las canciones, más mal que bien, pero esta es que

es una pena.... No me apetece destrozarla con una mala traducción, pues la fuerza

del original es tal que incluso una BUENA traducción ( que está claramente fuera

de mis posibilidades ) la destrozaría. Así que lamento que sólo la podais disfrutar

quienes conozcais una de las lenguas más habladas en Seventh Avenue....

 

Hela aquí:

I am just a poor boy though' my story's seldom told
I have squandered my resistance for a
pocketful of mumbles such are promises
All lies and jests still a man hears what he
wants to hear and disregards the rest

When I left my home and my family
I was no more than a boy in the company, strangers
In the quiet of the railway station running scared

Laying low seeking out the poorer quarters where the ragged people go
Looking for the places only they would know

li, li , li.... lililili, li, li, li, li , li, li...

Asking only workman's wages
I come looking for a job but I get no offers
Just a "Come on!" from the whores on Seventh Avenue
I do declare there were some times when I was so lonesome
I took some comfort there

Then I'm laying out my winter clothes and wishing I was gone
going home,
where the New York City winters aren't bleeding me,
leading me, going home.

In the clearing stands a boxer and a fighter by his trade
and he carries the reminders of ev'ry glove that laid him down
or cut him till he cried out in his anger and his shame
"I am leaving, I am leaving..."
But the fighter still remains