Redacció
No he volgut mai avorrir-vos
–la veritat no és per cantar–.
Però, perdoneu-me, avui us porto
el més cert que sé que hi ha.
Les estrelles venen, van,
cremen ràpid o amb els anys,
i, com els últims raigs del sol, desapareixen.
De lluny es veu la glòria,
però no serveix de molt si no es sap compartir.
Feu-me contenta uns minuts, escolteu una història.
De com es perd la gent
per uns aplaudiments.
Es juguen la salut, es venen les mares,
i un és coronat i un és destrossat i un desapareix en el combat.
Però molts han vist de tot!
Passant la vida en sales buides i envelats de mala mort.
I tots tenen una història.
N’hi ha que esclaten joves,
abans que el temps les posi a lloc.
Després arriba algú dient
que tot plegat és decadent
que ja li toca a una altra gent…
Però mai sabran el mal que fa
que el propi nom se’t faci estrany
o els anys llargs oblidant-te del que saps molt bé:
que ets una ombra del passat per nostàlgics i tarats,
i busques solucions, vols ser valenta,
potser dient-te
que mai vas veure els ulls
dels joves, decidits,
que volien un autògraf
o ficar-se’t dins el llit.
I van ser molts que van venir,
però no et vas creure mai que t’estimaven.
Mai.
N’hi ha que esclaten velles,
potser eren de pell dura i han pogut seguir lluitant,
o potser no entenen bé què està passant.
Les estrelles venen, van,
cremen ràpid, triguen anys,
i com els últims raigs del sol, desapareixen.
Escolteu una història.
Hi ha cossos que els altres volen mirar
i es posen a l’aparador!
Hi ha guitarristes excel·lents,
crec que escoltant-los sabria morir...
Però tant se val,
això no és el que he vingut a dir,
jo vull explicar una història,
perquè tots tenim històries.
La Janis Ian va explicar-la molt bé.
La Nina Simone va fer-ho millor encara!
I les estrelles les segueixen esclatant
i apagant-se en la cançó que mai acaba!
I totes tenen una història!
I totes tenen una història!
I totes tenen una història!
Stars, they come and go,
They come fast, they come slow,
They go like the last light of the sun,
All in a blaze.
And all you see is glory,
But it gets lonely there
When there's no one there to share,
You can shake it away
If you'll hear a story.
People lust for fame
Like athletes in a game,
They break their collarbones
And come up swinging.
Some of them are crowned,
Some of them are downed,
Some are lost and never found.
But most have seen it all,
They live their lives
In sad cafes and music halls
And they always have a story.
Some make it when they're young,
Before the world has done its dirty job
And later on someone will say:
"You've had your day,
now you must make way"
(Don't they always?).
But you'll never know the pain
Of using a name you never owned,
The years of forgetting
What you know too well,
That you, who gave the crown,
Have been let down,
You try to make amends
Without defending, perhaps
Pretending.
You never saw the eyes
Of young men at twenty-five
Who followed as you walked
And asked for autographs,
Kissed you on the cheek
And you never could believe
They really loved you, never.
Some make it when they're old,
Perhaps they have a soul
They aren't afraid to bare,
Perhaps there's nothing there.
But anyway that isn't what I meant to say,
I meant to tell about a story,
Since we all have stories,
But I can't remember it anyway
So I'll tell about the mood
That's in the United States today
And permeating even Switzerland.
It goes.
But I'll continue anyway
Until I get it together.
Some women have
A body men would want to see
And so they put it on display,
Some people play a fine guitar,
I could listen to them play all day
But anyway, I'm trying to tell my story.
Janis Ian told it very well.
Janis Joplin told it even better.
Billie Holiday even told it even better.
We always, we always,
We always have a story.
The latest story that I know
Is the one that I'm supposed to go out with,
And the latest story that I know
Is the one that I'm supposed to go out with.
Feelings,
Nothing more than feelings.
Feelings,
Nothing more than feelings.
Feelings are bluff, you know that?
Foto: Mireia Grau
