La Vida sense Tu [English translation]

[spoken]1

I think it's time for your song to Valencia.

You were afraid of this moment.

Confess it: you were afraid.

You were afraid of the moment of your song to Valencia.

You wanted to sing it without solemnity,

without the Mediterranean, without Greeks or Latins,

without stonecutters and without monuments.

You wanted to sing it in a humble way,

with chastity, we'd say.

You saw the song: it was growing.

Slowly you saw it growing like the twilight.

The night was coming, you wouldn't write the song.

[sung]

Life is a morning every day

when I picked you up.

A black hoodie, wide jeans,

a faded mural.

Life is a class in Philology

where we shook the tomorrow

A red sun sneaking into the assembly,

dirty notes, golden hair.

Life is a Thursday that'd end

in your student apartment.

Four yellow candles in the kitchen,

naked shadows, broken plates.

Life is a blue sky towards noon

when we went up to the roof.

A song by Extremo or Roba Estesa

Valencia between white bed sheets

Life is closing your eyes, laughing again,

shouting to the wind, feeling free.

Life is wishing to be born again,

running alone, feeling how you grow.

Life is the face-cutting cold

and a tear setting fire to the cheeks.

Life is understanding that I have to learn,

learn to live

life without you.

Life is biting the sweet fruit

in the stairs of the Mercat Central;

going up through Cavallers2 to Valldigna,

smoking forgets, singing out loud.

Life is a demolished house

near the Torres de Serrans.

"Love, humour, repect" on the façade,

fire and shrapnel in our hands.

Life is taking the first tramway

from Pont de fusta3 to Cabanyal.

An orange city in the windows.

A world at war in the tired eyes.

Life is an abandoned boat

that we found in front of the sea,

feeling like two shipwreck survivors at the beach

the last time you kissed me.

Life is closing your eyes, laughing again,

shouting to the wind, feeling free.

Life is wishing to be born again,

running alone, feeling how you grow.

Life is the face-cutting cold

and a tear setting fire to the cheeks.

Life is understanding that I have to learn,

learn to live.

Life is closing your eyes, laughing again,

shouting to the wind, feeling free.

Life is wishing to be born again,

running alone, feeling how you grow.

Life is the face-cutting cold

and a tear setting fire to the cheeks.

Life is understanding that I have to learn,

learn to live

life without you.

Life without you.

Life without you.

Life without you.

Life.

[spoken]4

That morning sun, the Torres de Serrans

with that brief initial colour of the geraniums.

You see, from the dinning room, through the open window,

Benimaclet here, there you see Alboraia,

you hear from bed the harbour sirens.

1. Poem by Vicent Andrés Estellés.2. a street in Valencia3. a bridge in Valencia4. Poem by Vicent Andrés Estellés continues