Song: Pa amb oli i sal
Artist: Blaumut
Album: El turista (2012)
"Bread with Oil and Salt"
Take a photo of the roof,
from here I can see Mars.
The clothes hung out dry, my August,
a field of sprigs and snails.
We'll wait for the cold to subside,
and underneath the tree we'll talk about everything.
An elemental biorhythm,
a sea of antenas and animals.
The astronauts fly low,
the clouds go by like one who says nothing.
With our hands in our pockets,
we'll walk the steps made by other feet.
We'll have bread with oil and salt for breakfast,
we'll dress it with glasses of wine.
Forgetting about the city,
the afternoon is long and perhaps much, much more so, the night.
Another place, another time
Where we will speak to other gods
My secret, subtitled,
paths of rice, paths of wheat.
We'll wait for the sun to go down
and underneath the tree we'll talk about the weather.
An elemental biorhythm,
a bit of artificial life.
Where we will speak to other gods
My secret, subtitled,
paths of rice, paths of wheat.
We'll wait for the sun to go down
and underneath the tree we'll talk about the weather.
An elemental biorhythm,
a bit of artificial life.
the clouds go by like one who says nothing.
With our hands in our pockets,
we'll walk the steps made by other feet.
We'll have bread with oil and salt for breakfast,
we'll dress it with glasses of wine.
Forgetting about the city,
the afternoon is long and perhaps much, much more so, the night.
