Ramats de Pomes
Maria Coma Lyrics


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Un núvol de bluetac,
Un sorral on governar
Amb cucs de seda que creixen i volen.
Un núvol destil·lat,
Tricicles amb rodetes
Per si es punxa alguna de les altres rodes.
I el millor és que s'hi menja gelatina,
En aquest gran llençol
On tots hi porten un flic-flac d'última generació.
Sempre fa tic-tac,
I aprèn les hores,
La pometa riu, canta.
Un mirador d'estels,
I hi ha tres patis,
Set pometes a dalt l'arbre.
Allà hi ha un os formiguer
Que et xucla aquelles llàgrimes si plores
I et fa estar molt més content.
Però amagat hi ha un rellotge molt atent
I una pometa despistada...
Fa tic-tac i aprèn les hores
I li canvien el bluetac per les xinxetes...
Ni set pometes, ni tres patis...
I és que el terra és de gelatina movedissa
I és que el terra és de gelatina movedissa
¡i és que el terra és...
I és que el terra...
Ramats de pomes
Ara rodolen
Ben indiferents.
Però elles segueixen
Dalt del seu arbre




Xiuxiuejant cançons
Amb el vent.

Overall Meaning

The song "Ho Sap Tot I Calla" is a dreamy, surrealistic description of a playful and imaginative world. The lyrics describe a world that seems to exist only in the imagination, with images of clouds made of sticky tape, worms made of silk that grow and fly, and tricycles with small wheels just in case one of the bigger wheels gets a puncture. In this world, everyone eats jelly on a giant sheet where everyone does the latest dance moves. The clock always ticks and learns the hours. There is a star-gazing lookout with three courtyards and seven apples on the tree. There is an ant-eater that sucks up your tears if you cry and makes you feel better. However, hidden away there is a very attentive clock and an absent-minded apple that, despite ticking and learning the hours, gets swapped with pushpins. The apples now roll down, looking ignorant, but still continuing to whisper songs with the wind on their tree.


The song is delivered with a sense of wonder and magic, suggesting that such a place only exists in the mind of the singer. There is a child-like innocence and playfulness in the way the song is written, with a mixture of familiar objects and imaginary ones. The overall mood is whimsical and surreal, inviting the listener to explore a world of pure imagination.


Line by Line Meaning

Un núvol de bluetac,
A cloud made of adhesive putty


Un sorral on governar
A sandpit to rule


Amb cucs de seda que creixen i volen.
With silk worms that grow and fly


Un núvol destil·lat,
A distilled cloud


Tricicles amb rodetes
Tricycles with wheels


Per si es punxa alguna de les altres rodes.
In case any of the other wheels gets punctured.


I el millor és que s'hi menja gelatina,
And the best thing is that you can eat jelly on it.


En aquest gran llençol
On this big sheet


On tots hi porten un flic-flac d'última generació.
Where everyone carries a state-of-the-art yo-yo


Sempre fa tic-tac,
Always ticking


I aprèn les hores,
And learns the hours


La pometa riu, canta.
The little handle laughs, sings.


Un mirador d'estels,
A stargazing viewpoint


I hi ha tres patis,
And there are three courtyards


Set pometes a dalt l'arbre.
Seven apples at the top of the tree.


Allà hi ha un os formiguer
There's an ant hill skeleton there


Que et xucla aquelles llàgrimes si plores
That sucks up those tears if you cry


I et fa estar molt més content.
And makes you much happier.


Però amagat hi ha un rellotge molt atent
But hidden there's a very watchful clock


I una pometa despistada...
And a distracted little handle...


Fa tic-tac i aprèn les hores
Ticking and learning the hours


I li canvien el bluetac per les xinxetes...
And they change its adhesive putty for pins...


Ni set pometes, ni tres patis...
Neither seven apples, nor three courtyards...


I és que el terra és de gelatina movedissa
And it's because the ground is made of quicksand jelly


I és que el terra és de gelatina movedissa
And it's because the ground is made of quicksand jelly


¡i és que el terra és...
And it's because the ground is...


I és que el terra...
And it's because the ground...


Ramats de pomes
Herds of apples


Ara rodolen
Now they roll


Ben indiferents.
Quite indifferent.


Però elles segueixen
But they keep going


Dalt del seu arbre
At the top of their tree


Xiuxiuejant cançons
Whispering songs


Amb el vent.
With the wind.




Contributed by Owen M. Suggest a correction in the comments below.
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