Today I was talking to a friend at work how songs, those that we like and sometimes even those that we hate, like many other things around you, present themselves in a new light to you when someone you love goes away.
Specifically, I was listening to two tunes: “Tan Joven y Tan Viejo”, by Spanish singer and songwriter Joaquin Sabina, and “De Vez En Cuando La Vida” by another Spanish genius, Joan Manuel Serrat.
Tan Joven y Tan Viejo
Lo primero que quise fue marcharme bien lejos;
en el álbum de cromos de la resignación
pegábamos los niños que odiaban los espejos
guantes de Rita Hayworth, calles de Nueva York.
Apenas vi que un ojo me guiñaba la vida
le pedí que a su antojo dispusiera de mí,
ella me dio las llaves de la ciudad prohibida
yo, todo lo que tengo, que es nada, se lo di.
Así crecí volando y volé tan deprisa
que hasta mi propia sombra de vista me perdió,
para borrar mis huellas destrocé mi camisa,
confundí con estrellas las luces de neón.
Hice trampas al póker, defraudé a mis amigos,
sobre el banco de un parque dormí como un lirón;
por decir lo que pienso sin pensar lo que digo
más de un beso me dieron (y más de un bofetón).
Lo que sé del olvido lo aprendí de la luna,
lo que sé del pecado lo tuve que buscar
como un ladrón debajo de la falda de alguna
de cuyo nombre ahora no me quiero acordar.
Así que, de momento, nada de adiós muchachos,
me duermo en los entierros de mi generación;
cada noche me invento, todavía me emborracho;
tan joven y tan viejo, like a Rolling Stone.
—
De Vez En Cuando La Vida
De vez en cuando la vida
Nos besa en la boca
Y a colores se despliega
Como un atlas,
Nos pasea por las calles
En volandas
Y nos sentimos en buenas manos;
Se hace de nuestra medida,
Toma nuestro paso
Y saca un conejo de la vieja chistera
Y uno es feliz como un niño
Cuando sale de la escuela.
De vez en cuando la vida
Toma conmigo café
Y está tan bonita que
Da gusto verla.
Se suelta el pelo y me invita
A salir con ella a escena.
De vez en cuando la vida
Se nos brinda en cueros
Y nos regala un sueño
Tan escurridizo
Que hay que andarlo de puntillas
Por no romper el hechizo.
De vez en cuando la vida
Afina con el pincel
Se nos eriza la piel
Y faltan palabras
Para nombrar lo que ofrece
A los que saben usarla.
De vez en cuando la vida
Nos gasta una broma
Y nos despertamos
Sin saber qué pasa,
Chupando un palo sentados
Sobre una calabaza.
—
This is kind of tricky for those who can’t read Spanish, but hopefully it will make you pick up a dictionary or ask a Spanish-speaking friend to translate these lyrics for you. They are that good!
These are, in a nutshell, two very sad songs, but they are beautiful at the same time. Specially the last parts of the second song (which I will translate here for you):
De vez en cuando la vida (Once in a while, Life)
Nos gasta una broma (Plays a joke on us)
Y nos despertamos (And we wake up)
Sin saber qué pasa, (Without knowing what happens)
Chupando un palo sentados (Sucking on a stick)
Sobre una calabaza. (Sitting on top of a pumpkin.)
That is a bit how you feel when you wake up the day after “all is accomplished”, so to speak… like the chubby fish on “Nemo”, wondering at the end of the movie “Now what?” (actually we were watching that movie last night, and it gave me a hard time, between laughs… because that movie we saw with my mom and my dad together, before Santiago was born, and it always carried that double meaning for me, where first Marlin was like my dad and I was like Nemo, and I felt the torch was being passed on to me, for me to become Marlin with che coming Nemo… and you want to make things better, than the “previous Marlin”, but at the same time, there are so many things you want to preserve from your Old Man, so many things, that you forget there were any bad ones -if there were any indeed…)
I was reading last night or the night before that it is common for people who loose their loved ones, to only focus and remember the good things, and block away the bad characteristics. You know what? I have tried hard, and I still have a hard time finding negative traits in my dad. The only thing I could “blame him” for not having was a hobby, and even so, he sorta had one: baseball was his thing. Which is why I now wear his Boston Red Sox hat often.
Well… I am kinda dragging, but I didn’t want to finish up this post without touching on the Sabina song, “Tan Joven y Tan Viejo”. This is one song of retrospective, like looking back at life of a troubled man, a man who is embarrassed of portions of his life, but he doesn’t bow and repent. Rather he looks up and says in the end “So for now, no goodbyes, my friends; I fall asleep in the burials of my generation; each night I invent myself, I still get drunk; so young and so old… Like a Rolling Stone”, finishing up quoting Dylan.
It’s tough to describe this song unless you listen to it, so I hope you give yourself the chance to do it, because you won’t regret it. Even if you don’t understand a word, I promise it will make you cry. Tears of joy or tears of sadness, but you will have a hard time escaping it.
So long for now. I should be back next week. For now, at least, I don’t plan on posting much over the weekend.
As I write this, and over the course of the past few days, ironically I’ve been listening to a band called Arcade Fire, and their debut album “Funeral”. Quite a somber title, indeed, but a great CD nonetheless.
