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There are cracked doors
Hay sobre las puertas agrietadas
Dry pita crosses
Cruces de pita seca
And in peeling eaves
Y en aleros desconchados
They hang watered cobs from the pool
Cuelgan mazorcas regadas de alberca
And I sit at the old table
Y yo me siento ante la mesa vieja
In front of the landscape
Frente al paisaje
To contemplate, to run your shop
A contemplar, a regentar tu tienda
And flow with the afternoon
Y fluir con la tarde
There are upon the doors that have lived
Hay sobre las puertas que han vivido
Other hands, other frictions, other sayings
Otras manos, otros roces, otras dichas
And in its unpainted veins
Y en sus despintadas vetas
Dignity of warm nook, of cave, of tavern
Dignidad de rincón tibio, de cueva, de taberna
It's your kitchen, your little store
Es tu figón, tu pequeña tienda
Ah, ah, ah-ah-ah-ah
Ah, ah, ah-ah-ah-ah
Ah, ah, ah-ah-ah-ah
Ah, ah, ah-ah-ah-ah
And I sit at the old table
Y yo me siento ante la mesa vieja
In front of the landscape
Frente al paisaje
To contemplate, to run the shop
A contemplar, a regentar la tienda
And flow with the afternoon
Y fluir con la tarde
And I sit at the old table
Y yo me siento ante la mesa vieja
In front of the landscape
Frente al paisaje
To contemplate the valley, to run the shop
A contemplar el valle, a regentar la tienda
and spend the afternoon
Y pasar la tarde
