Llanto Y Coplas
Joan Manuel Serrat
Crying and Verses
At last, pneumonia killed Don Guido and the bells are
ringing all day long for him, ding, dong!
Don Guido died, a man who was very lively in his youth,
very gallant and somewhat bullfighter; as an old man, a great prayer.
They say this man from Seville had a harem
and was skilled in handling horses
and a master in refreshing chamomile.
When his wealth diminished, his monomania was
thinking that he should settle down
and he did so in a Spanish way,
by marrying a maiden of great fortune.
And repaint his coat of arms, talk about the traditions
of his house, put a stop to scandals and love affairs,
restrain his whims. He became a great pagan brother
of a holy brotherhood, on Holy Thursday he would go out
holding a candle in his hand, dressed as a Nazarene.
Today the bell does not say that tomorrow they will carry
the good Don Guido very seriously on the way to the cemetery.
Your love for laces and silks and gold
and the blood of the bulls and the smoke of the altars.
Oh, the end of an aristocracy! The gray and limp beard
on the chest, dressed in rough sackcloth, the cold hands crossed,
so formal! the Andalusian gentleman.
