Camaron, Me, and ‘Attar

El Padre Santo de Roma



Lailolailolailo, Leilo …

Holy Father in Rome,
I have to ask
if the sins that I have
if the sins I have,
if the sins I have,
can they be forgiven?

I’m like a sad bird
that goes from branch to branch,
singing its suffering,
singing its suffering,
because it doesn’t know how to cry.

Oh how beautiful are the flowers,
the cheerful spring
with its divine colors.
You are the sea,
I am the sand,
I’ll go with you,
wherever you want.

Europe’s Chapel,
Europe’s Chapel,
overlooking the bay
so pretty and beautiful,
so pretty and beautiful,
the fields of Andalusia.

You are the sea,
I am the sand,
I’ll go with you,
wherever you want.


Lailolailolailo, leilo…

Al Padre Santo de Roma,
le tengo que preguntar
si los pecados que tengo
si los pecados que tengo,
si los pecados que tengo,
me los puede perdonar.

Soy cómo el pájaro triste,
ay que de rama en rama va,
cantando su sufrimiento,
cantando su sufrimiento,
porque no sabe llorar.

{Olé, Paco}

Ay qué bonitas están las flores,
de la alegre primavera
con sus divinos colores.
Tú eres la mar,
yo soy la arena,
yo voy contigo,
dónde tú quieras.

De la Capilla de Europa,
de la Capilla de Europa,
se divisa la bahía
más bonita y más hermosa,
ay más bonita y más hermosa,
de la vega Andalucía.

Tú eres la mar,
yo soy la arena,
yo voy contigo,
dónde tú quieras.



You forged these chains and set me free
I’m your dream, you’re my memory
Don’t forget me, I beg you please
My darkness, light, health and disease

My love is yours, so yours is mine
So lift my ore out of this mine
Don’t leave me shrouded in my mind
Love flows behind the clouds of time

Only my death will end our war
My perfections stain your faults
My waves will crash upon your shore
Until your rocks become my salt


دلم دردى كه دارد با كه گويد


To whom can my heart speak of its pain
     To whom can I repent, for I’ve sinned again?
Alas!  Isn’t there a sympathetic freind
   who would welcome my bad luck?
When you spoke to me of abandonment
   you were a dying person describing death
Why should one wash their hands of you when
   they’re not full at the table of your union?
My heart sees your face through a hundred walls;
   it breathes your scent from a hundred leagues
I won’t forget the rose of your union
   otherwise the thorns will grow upon my grave
Today the grief of ‘Attar’s heart
   speaks or is silent by your decree



دلم دردی که دارد با که گوید            گنه خود کرد تاوان از که جوید
دریغا نیست همدردی موافق        که بر بخت بدم خوش خوش بموید
مرا گفتی که ترک ما بگفتی               به ترک زندگانی کس بگوید
کسی کز خوان وصلت سیر نبود            چرا باید که دست از تو بشوید
ز صد بارو دلم روی تو بیند             ز صد فرسنگ بوی تو ببوید
گل وصلت فراموشم نگردد             وگر خار از سر گورم بروید
غم درد دل عطار امروز               چه فرمایی بگوید یا نگوید


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