Manolo

Come Manolo... don't cry for that prostitute who has
broken your path.
I know very well that it's very hard, past forty,
to lose your heart.
But you are not alone, I have always been your friend and
I want to rescue you;
don't cry like a child... show that you are a man...
to hell with the pain!

Come Manolo don't cry... and especially not in the street where everyone sees you.
People don't understand, -nor do they need to-, to know
about your pain.
Let's go and try to make your sorrows feel defeated
and forgotten;
in some tavern, there will be plenty of drinks, to
better drown them.

I still have my guitar, if you want I'll wake it up and
we'll start the party
like when life gave us those twenty years that will not
return.
The city will be ours, like in those times of
sincere bohemia
when intoxicated by night, we roamed its streets, to
hear it sing.

Come Manolo, don't cry, don't beg for affection from those who
don't know how to give it;
you'll see that life, sooner or later, will
reward its value...
and enough of tears, lift your hundred kilos and
let's go round...
even though it's just beginning... let's drink the night until
the sun rises.

Come Manolo, don't cry... let's go to a casino... I have
faith in the fourteen;
Maybe we'll be lucky and with four coins we'll win
a lot.
With the bag full, you'll see how then
we have company
and even if for a short time, it must be fun to play the
big shot.

Based on an idea by Jacques Brel

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J. C. M. P.