A keresés eredménye

Good Day, America

I have seen her open her window,
and the silence ended.
I have seen her leave contented,
in search of her song.
 
With life under her arm,
her voice upon her shoulders,
it was beautiful to see in her eyes
all the splendor of God.
 
America, yes sir,
today it rises before the sun.
 
Everything has started to sing in South America,
It is a way of life with men and the light.
 
Good day, America, America, America
Good day, America, America, America
Good day, America, America, America,
South America
(x2)
 

It is a wonder that circles from the air
to the honest hand of a friend,
from the good will of the sun,
to the infinite heart of work,
because those are the cardinal points of America.
America, young girl, I prefer the danger of loving you
to waiting for destiny on my knees.
If one is reborn after life,
I am still left with the hope of death.

 
How beautiful it is to see her awake
after having slept so long.
Her hair full of stars
is a happy mountain range.
Her hands full of clay
kneads the new bread,
the same divine clay
from which brought us Adam.
 
America, yes sir,
today it rises before the sun.
 
Everything has started to sing in South America,
It is a way of life with men and the light.
 
Good day, America, America, America
Good day, America, America, America
Good day, America, America, America,
South America (x2)
 
South America
 
South America
 

I'm not from here, nor from there (live)

I like those who remain silent,
and I like those who sing.
And being so long with me,
I like what happens to me.
 
Things like these happen to me,
even if it's not important
going around telling everyone
about everything that happens.
 
Because one doesn't live alone,
and what happens to one
happens to the world,
only reason and cause.
 
And everything is so perfect
because perfect is God.
Thus a star moves in the sky
when a flower is cut,
and if there's one, there's two.
 
I knew about the devil
the night I said no to a hungry man.
And also that night I knew,
that the devil's God's son.
 
I walk alone in life
with a tone and dominant,
modestly a troubadour,
without pretense to teach,
for the world is round and thus
I don't know what it is being at the front.
 
Treading, and always treading,
only for treading so.
I'm not in this world to explain it,
I'm just here to play my song.
 
I don't want to judge man,
to man I want to tell a story.
Life's my condition,
and to sing is my path.
To sing and to tell life,
that's the way I act.
 
Once I arrived at Tandil
and an old man I met,
whose lack of intelligence
as wisdom was taken.
 
I questioned him about Jesus,
one night, this nice old man,
and right there I met him,
when at a mirror I gazed.
 
I dance to my song
and not to other's.
I'm not freedom,
but am who provokes it.
 
If I know the way,
why would I lay down?
If I like freedom,
why would a slave be, I?
 
When choosing, I always chose
more than for me, for my brother.
And If being an eagle I've chosen,
it's because of the worm I'm enamored.
 
I rather walk by myself
than mounting another's horse.
For an apple, someone
forever in debt remained.
It's always like this,
the lighter one arrives first.
 
On the day I die
a scale won't be needed,
for to vigil over a troubadour,
a milonga suffices.
 
I affront the enemy
and to praise I turn my back,
for the one that accepts flattery
starts to be tamed.
Man pats the horse
to mount it.
 
Forgive me if I went too far
and started moralizing,
no one can give counsel,
no man is old enough for that.
 
I carry the sun on my back
and the world turns yellow.
I like to walk but I follow no direction,
for the certain things pose no question.
 
I like roaming far away on summer,
but in winter to return to my mother.
And to see the dogs that never forgot me,
and the horses, and the hugs from my brothers.
 
I like it, I like it, I like...
 
I like the sun, Alicia, and the doves,
a good cigar and the Spanish guitar,
jumping up walls and opening windows,
and when a woman bemoans.
 
I like wine as much as flowers,
and rabbits but not tractors,
Homemade bread and the voice of Dolores,
and the seawater moistening my feet.
 
I'm not from here, nor from there.
I hold no age, nor prospects, and
being happy is my identifying color.
 
I like always to lay down on the sand,
or to chase Manuela on a bicycle.
Or all the time to see the stars,
with Maria on the wheatfield.
 
I'm not from here, nor from there.
I hold no age, nor prospects, and
being happy is my identifying color.