Archive for 26 26+00:00 diciembre 26+00:00 2011

Patxi Andión’s “Compañera”

16558787This is an interesting song by the great songwriter Patxi Andión, from his 1971’s album Once canciones entre paréntesis (“Eleven songs between parenthesis”), the second album on his career. The song tells us about a singer who get tire of singing to rich people about love and other frivolous issues, of making the songs that likes to whoever pay him, so he decides to make another kind of songs: songs about life and important things, the songs he wants to do. And so he tells to his partner, his girl or his wife, who is sleeping at night. Probably, this is a song a little autobiographical.


Duerme sin fin compañera
y no sepas lo que pasa.
Duerme tu hijo en el sueño.
Duerme sin miedo y sin dueño.
Ayer me daban dinero
para comprar mi silencio,
por eso, mientras tu duermes,
escribo hoy estos versos.

Muchos piensan que arrendé
a los que pagan mi canto.
No les daré desencanto,
más les diré lo que di
a los que tienen la plata:
mucho susto y mucha lata.

No me arrienda la ganancia
de mi canto en los salones,
ni tampoco las razones
del que presume pureza.
A mí me infunden tristeza
los que juegan de santones.

Me han pinchado por todas partes
y por todas partes,
me han criticado el grito.
Otros me dan y yo quito,
la importancia a mi guitarra,
que las mentiras desdeña
y a mis verdades se agarra.

Bien señores: se acabó
el tiempo del acomodo,
y les he dicho a mi modo
lo que pasa y he sentido.
No se ofendan, no hay motivo.
Más ninguno se haga el sordo;
que todos antes me oyeron
y hasta algunos aplaudieron
cuando he cantado al amor.

No se olviden: que el dolor
lo callan quienes lo hicieron.

No cantaré compañera
sino a la carne y al hueso,
y dejaré las razones
a los que saben de eso.
No venderé mi guitarra,
no la ganará el silencio,
ni el interés, ni el desprecio;
mi canto…mi canto no tiene precio.

Guarden su oferta señores,
están perdiendo su tiempo.
No me importa que se ofendan,
se equivocaron de tienda,
porque aquí nada está en venta.


Get an endless sleep partner/ and you better don’t know what’s happening./ Your child is sleeping inside the dream./ He sleeps fearless and ownerless./ Yesterday they were giving me money/ to buy my silence,/ by that, as you’re sleeping,/ today I write these verses.// Many people think I rented/ my singing to those who pay./ I won’t let them in a dissenchantment,/ but I shall tell them what I gave/ to those who have the shiners:/ a lot of alarm and a lot of drag.// The profit of my singing at the ballrooms/ doesn’t rent me,/ nor the reason of who presumes of his purity./ Those who play the godmen/ fill me with sadness.// I’ve been punctured everywhere/ and everywhere/ my shout has been criticized./ Others attach and I play down/ the importance of my guitar/ that disdains the lies/ and hold on to my truths.// Well sirs: comfort time/ it’s over,/ and I’ve been telling you in my way/ what’s happening and what I felt./ Don’t you take as an offense, there’s no reason./ But may none of you pretend not to hear;/ because all of you heard me before/ and even some of you applauded/ when I sang about love.// Don’t forget: sorrow/ is silenced by those who made it.// I shall not sing, partner,/ but to the flesh and to the bone,/ and I shall let the reasons/ to those who know about that./ I shall not sell my guitar,/ silence shall not reclaim it,/ nor the interest, nor the scorn;/ my singing… my singing is priceless.// Keep your offer sirs,/ you’re lossing your time./ I don’t care if you take offence,/ you are in the wrong shop,/ because here nothing is on sale.

Patxi Andión

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