Pla quinquennal - Manel

Dormies mig agafada al meu braç,

ha sonat un clàxon de cotxe encallat,

has obert un ull mandrós i callat

i has tornat al teu somni privat.

Pujava el cafè i ens he recordat

ballant a una platja amb barrets mexicans,

la cara que feies al anar girant

crec que era de felicitat,

crec que era de felicitat.

De moment no et riuré més les gràcies,

per una vegada he entès el que cal.

Passi-ho bé, que m’esborro del mapa

per preparar a l’ombra un gran pla quinquennal.

Sento que et despertes, et vinc a buscar,

nena tens cafè, vols que torri pa?

Al diari rés massa estimulant,

mica en mica ja et vas despertant.

I fumes mirant els cotxes passar,

t’entregues a l’aire dens del veïnat,

penso proposar que baixem al far,

jo que mai he estat home de mar,

jo que mai he estat home de mar.

El primer any compraré una corbata ben llarga estampada de colors crus,

i, el segon, els millors professors europeus m’ensenyaran a fer el nus.

Pel tercer guardo l’antologia dels grans octosíl·labs que parlen de tu

i, pel quart, l’edició limitada folrada en vellut.

I el cinquè ens creuarem per l’Eixample i demanarem taula en un bar de menús.

Trauré pit, ensenyaré la corbata, i llavors, bonica,

dependrà de tu.

I llavors tot dependrà de tu.

You were half asleep in my arms,

a car horn sounded,

you have opened a lazy, silent eye

and you have returned to your private dream.

The coffee was coming up and I remembered

dancing on a beach with Mexican hats,

the face you made as you turned

i think i was happy

i think it was happiness.

I won't thank you any more for now,

for once I understood what was needed.

Have fun, I'm deleting myself from the map

to prepare a big five-year plan in the shadows.

I feel like you're waking up, I'm coming for you,

girl do you have coffee, do you want me to toast bread?

Nothing too stimulating in the newspaper,

little by little you are already waking up.

And you smoke watching the cars pass by,

you indulge in the dense air of the neighborhood,

I plan to go down to the lighthouse,

I've never been a seaman,

I have never been a seaman.

The first year I will buy a very long tie printed in raw colors,

and second, the best European teachers will teach me how to knot.

For the third time, I keep the anthology of the great octosyllabic words about you

and, for the fourth time, the limited edition lined in velvet.

And on the fifth we will cross the Eixample and order a table in a menu bar.

I'll take off my chest, show off my tie, and then, pretty,

it will depend on you.

And then it will all depend on you.