A keresés eredménye

To a dove

White dove, vidalita
of pink eyes
I sang to you before, vidalita
like in love.
 
Pretty dove, vidalita
sad vidalita,
so little you have left, vidalita
of what you were.
 
Skinny dove, vidalita
of hungry beak
all the feathers, vidalita,
were gone with the wind
 
It's a bad wind, vidalita
it's a cold wind,
it left you featherless, vidalita
and with the empty crop.
 
Foolish dove, vidalita
of stupid beak
take care of your nest, vidalita
because the wolf is loose
 
Poor dove, vidalita
of wandering flight,
if you don't face him, vidalita
he'll undo your nest.
 
Pretty dove, vidalita
ugly dove
get the beak ready, vidalita
for the fight.
 
Sick dove, vidalita
of broken wings
if you don't gather strength, vidalita
you'll be left with nothing
 
Black dove, vidalita
of red beak
grow dove, vidalita
pull out his eyes
 
Grow your wings, vidalita
grow your heart
grow dove, vidalita
and become a falcon.
 

My translations are licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International License. It doesn't apply to the translations with a source.

The Bow-legged Maciel

Why your aching step
from north to south,
the foot that didn't know
the foot that didn't know
about laughs or light?
 
Your father leaves the land
of Tacuarembó
looking for his land,
a land of his,
and he never found it.
 
He finds th sad garbage
where a thousand people live,
he finds the death,
he finds the silence
of that shanty town.
 
The Bow-legged, round eyes
without chalkboard,
looking at his mother,
looking at his brother,
he learns about pain.
 
The moon, week by week,
saw him wander
loaded of foam,
looking for a shore
like looking for the sea.
 
The Bow-legged doesn't know about shores
doesn't know about seas,
he knows about anger,
anger that aims
and doesn't want to kill.
 
He robs the bank and shares
with the shanty town,
like before with hunger
like before with hunger
he shares the loot.
 
This way I sing the story
of the Bow-legged Maciel,
the siren sounds,
the siren sounds,
they're coming for him.
 
The news publish two bullets,
are ten or a thousand,
a thousand eyes watching,
a thousand eyes watching
from the shanty town.
 
The Bow-legged was a uruguayan
from Tacuarembó
with aching step,
with aching step,
with aching step.
 
Let the bow-legged get together,
get their feet together,
and then walk looking for the homeland,
everyone's homeland, Maciel's homeland,
this bow-legged homeland that they won't twist
with hard chains the feet together
we will succeed.
 

My translations are licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International License. It doesn't apply to the translations with a source.