Music and verses || Cover Cantares-Songs Juan Manuel Serrat by @cesar24

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Juan Manuel Serrat

Cantares

Todo pasa y todo queda
Pero lo nuestro es pasar
Pasar haciendo caminos
Caminos sobre la mar
Nunca perseguí la gloria
Ni dejar en la memoria
De los hombres mi canción
Yo amo los mundos sutiles
Ingrávidos y gentiles
Como pompas de jabón
Me gusta verlos pintarse
De sol y grana, volar
Bajo el cielo azul, temblar
Súbitamente y quebrarse
Nunca perseguí la gloria
Caminante, son tus huellas
El camino y nada más
Caminante, no hay camino
Se hace camino al andar
Al andar se hace camino
Y al volver la vista atrás
Se ve la senda que nunca
Se ha de volver a pisar
Caminante no hay camino
Sino estelas en la mar
Hace algún tiempo en ese lugar
Donde hoy los bosques se visten de espinos
Se oyó la voz de un poeta gritar
Caminante no hay camino
Se hace camino al andar
Golpe a golpe, verso a verso
Murió el poeta lejos del hogar
Le cubre el polvo de un país vecino
Al alejarse le vieron llorar
Caminante no hay camino
Se hace camino al andar
Golpe a golpe, verso a verso
Cuando el jilguero no puede cantar
Cuando el poeta es un peregrino
Cuando de nada nos sirve rezar
(Caminante no hay camino
Se hace camino al andar)
Golpe a golpe, verso a verso
Golpe a golpe, verso a verso
Golpe a golpe, verso a verso

Juan Manue Serrat

Songs

Everything happens and everything is
But ours is to pass
Pass by making paths
Roads over the sea
I never chased the glory
Nor leave in memory
Of men my song
I love the subtle worlds
Weightless and gentle
Like soap foam
I like to see them paint
Of sun and scarlet, fly
Under the blue sky, shake
Suddenly and break
I never chased the glory
Walker, are your footprints
The road and nothing else
Wayfarer, there is no way
The way is made by walking
When you walk you make a way
And looking back
You see the path that never
It has to be stepped on again
Walker there is no path
But wakes in the sea
Some time ago in that place
Where today the forests are dressed in thorns
A poet's voice was heard screaming
Walker there is no path
The way is made by walking
Blow by blow, verse by verse
He died the poet away from home
The dust of a neighboring country covers him
As they walked away they saw him cry
Walker there is no path
The way is made by walking
Blow by blow, verse by verse
When the finch can not sing
When the poet is a pilgrim
When it is useless to pray
(Walker there is no way
The path is made by walking)
Blow by blow, verse by verse
Blow by blow, verse by verse
Blow by blow, verse by verse