Tonto el que no entienda.
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|
Cuenta una leyenda
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Que una hembra gitana
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Conjuró a la luna
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Hasta el amanecer.
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Llorando pedía
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Al llegar el día
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Desposar un calé.
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"Tendrás a tu hombre,
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Piel morena,"
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Desde el cielo
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Habló la luna llena.
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"Pero a cambio quiero
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El hijo primero
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Que le engendres a él.
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Que quien su hijo inmola
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Para no estar sola
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Poco le iba a querer."
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Estribillo:
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Luna quieres ser madre
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Y no encuentras querer
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Que te haga mujer.
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Dime, luna de plata,
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Qué pretendes hacer
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Con un ni?o de piel.
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A-ha-ha, a-ha-ha,
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Hijo de la luna.
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De padre canela
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Nació un ni?o
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Blanco como el lomo
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De un armi?o,
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Con los ojos grises
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En vez de aceituna --
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Ni?o albino de luna.
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"?Maldita su estampa!
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Este hijo es de un payo
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Y yo no me lo callo."
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Estribillo
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Gitano al creerse deshonrado,
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Se fue a su mujer,
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Cuchillo en mano.
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"?De quien es el hijo?
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Me has enga?ado fijo."
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Y de muerte la hirió.
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Luego se hizo al monte
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Con el ni?o en brazos
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Y allí le abandono.
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Estribillo
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Y en las noches
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Que haya luna llena
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Será porque el ni?o
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Esté de buenas.
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Y si el ni?o llora
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Menguará la luna
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Para hacerle una cuna.
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Y si el ni?o llora
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Menguará la luna
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Para hacerle una cuna.
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Translation:
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|
Son of the moon
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Foolish is he who doesn't understand.
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A legend tells of a gipsy woman
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Who pleaded with the moon until dawn.
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Weeping, she begged for a gipsy man
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To marry the following day.
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"You'll have your man, tawny skin,"
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Said the full moon from the sky.
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"But in return I want the first child
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That you have with him.
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Because she who sacrifices her child
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So that she is not alone,
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Isn't likely to love him very much."
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Chorus:
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Moon, you want to be mother,
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But you cannot find a love
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Who makes you a woman.
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Tell me, silver moon,
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What you intend to do
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With a child of flesh.
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A-ha-ha, a-ha-ha,
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Son of the moon.
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From a cinnamon-skinned father
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A son was born,
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White as the back of an ermine,
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With grey eyes instead of olive --
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Moon's albino child.
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"Damn his appearance!
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This is not a gipsy man's son
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And I will not put up with that."
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Chorus
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Believing to be dishonoured,
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The gipsy went to his wife,
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A knife in his hand.
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"Whose son is this?
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You've certainly fooled me!"
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And he wounded her mortally.
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Then he went to the woodlands
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With the child in his arms
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And left it behind there.
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Chorus
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And the nights the moon is full
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It is because the child
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Is in a good mood.
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And if the child cries,
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The moon wanes
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To make him a cradle.
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And if the child cries,
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The moon wanes
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To make him a cradle.
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|
-----------------
|
Hijo De La Luna
|
| Jean Francois Maljean |
