A keresés eredménye

Mr Vicepresident

Mr Vicepresident, (how brave...) sorry that I don't address you as tú,
I address my brothers, my friends and my people as tú
and Usted have mocked artfully of my trust,
so why to treat you with the 't' in the initial,
if You don't deserve treat nor family salute.
 
Mr Vicepresident, (double agent...) don't vice preside me,
even if an ordinary employment is not so easy to find for you,
maybe as substitute goalkeeper or making counterfeit CDs
or better as carpenter with your cutting saw.
 
Mr Vicepresident how stupid is to treat the others as stupids,
(Seriously and face to face I say it)
make up your mind with certainty if you're passive or active.
(Soon, don't be so hesitating)
Mr Vicepresident, I suggest you another adjective
call yourself straight Mr Vice Negative.
 
Mr Vicepresident, (I'm angry...) sorry that I don't screw you,
but a good curse makes you more decent
and you sir, decency has failed you lately,
so why to curse you with the 'c' in the initial,
if You aren't worthy for me to make an effort by damning you.
 
Mr Vicepresident, don't vice betray me,
Don't crawl as a snake conspiring in the corners
Better get a job and clean your broken pride,
though who will help you as helper or copilot.
 
Mr Vicepresident, by now I say goodbye
(With respect, the one you didn't have with me)
or saying correctly, I stay, you are gone...
(like a bat out of hell of the ship)
Because the vote of the people doesn't go to the oblivion.
Mr Vicepresident, you are who says goodbye.
 
Mr Vicepresident...
How does it feel...
Mr Vicepresident...
Incoherent...
Repelent, depressing, enough.
 

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I love you

I love you,
more than a thousand times I said I love you,
I wrote it in many songs and in the letters I gave you
and in the ones I keep in the drawers without opening.
 
I love you,
I've done smoke signs with the ashtray,
maybe if I say it in a bolero...
Just once and nothing more...
Woman... Wouman... if you can talk to God
you'll see that he can confirm you.
 
I love you,
more than a thousand times I said I love you,
like the summer to the downpour that let it rest,
like the sailor loves the stars in the sea.
 
I love you, to tell it in a more modern language
I bought a fluorescent cap of rapper.
And I say baby I can't stand it
I'll cut my veins if you leave me...
Sex, Bronx, modem, fax
without your love I'd rather be at Alcatraz.
 
I love you,
more than a thousand times I said I love you,
from Greenland to Tierra del Fuego,
from the snow to the tropical sand.
 
I love you,
more than a thousand times I said I love you,
if you still don't hear me I can repeat it
under the light, under the shower and I hope under you.
 
I love you,
if one voice is not enough I'll say: I love you.
If I haven't been clear enough: I love you.
From day to day, year to year and a bit more.
 
My pretty baby, my candy, my tasty and sweet mango... I love you...
From the top of a coconut tree I scream loud darling... I love you...
From balladist, with a bolero or rapping New york style... I love you...
from this salsa without being salsero, asking apologize to Cuba... I love you...
as soloist or with a whole chorus yelling with high volume... I love you...
from heaven to hell wherever you want darling... I love you...
 

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Always you

The night falls and my soul falls shattered,
another day passes and I spent it with nothing to happen,
another moon rolls over the alley,
only my stupid voice is heard...
 
Where are you...
Who caresses you now...
What game, what poem makes you fall in love.
 
The rain falls and it cuts me like a stab,
what do I do with this undyed, damped song.
I keep wating the time and the reason,
this heart rolls without direction...
 
Where are you...
Who caresses you now...
What game, what poem makes you fall in love.
 
Always you...come back always you...
Leaking in the light
hanging in my window...
 
Come back always you...
I don't want and always you...
Your farewell like a cross
weighs me tons.
Among the crowd
I only search for your face and I scream
 
Where are you...
Who caresses you now...
What game, what poem makes you fall in love.
 
The night falls and with it my hope fell,
of so much love I have in excess I gave you nothing today.
I put my pride at your feet again
and I destroy it thinking again...
 
Where are you...
Who caresses you now...
What game, what poem makes you fall in love.
 

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All private

Now it's all private...
That's why it all goes well,
the phones are fixed now,
and none is tapped...
And the train comes in time.
 
Now it's all private...
What a private equality,
we're all deprived of the dream,
the old, the little
deprived of laughter and bread.
 
What are you complaining, haven't you find out
that we've controled the hyperinflation.
You can plan and buy financed
a VCR or a Japan built car.
 
Every teacher, every retired
has stabilized their situation...
They can plan at what day of the year
to die of starvation.
 
Now it's all private...
That's why it all goes well,
when two drops fall the neighbourhood
becomes a scenario
of a windsurf exhibition.
 
Now it's all private,
what a private equality.
We pay like in France
and we're treated like a jewish in Irak.
 
What are you complaining, haven't you find out
that now the state is more effective,
it's only in charge of guaranteeing us
health, teaching and safety.
 
The safest is to stay locked,
the healthiest id not going to the hospital
what we learn with all private
is dividing and substracting.
 
Now all is private, that's why it all goes well,
the ones who sang the march yesterday,
now we remain singing this blues to Gardel.
 

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Just a coin

Girl... what a shame I have
in my pocket just a coin.
What a shame... that rains
and I can't take you
to take you for a walk over there
at twenty per hour
until the night comes.
To take you for a walk over there,
I can't go now
because I don't have a car
and I can't invite you
to the movies to see
the after midnight play.
 
Just a coin in my pocket
hiding in the aisles,
I hope your dad doesn't catch us
neither the neighbours.
Just a coin in the pocket
and you look at me with that glow
that wants to go to another place
and me to the same one.
 
Girl... what a shame I have
to be always careful.
What a shame... that you come
and I can't take you
to listen to the Richard Marx LP
or the one you like
of the slow ones.
You know I couldn't buy yet
neither the casette player
neither the flat,
and I can't invite you
neither to dance
because I barely have...
 

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Tanguey

I was the macho of the hood
the bravest, the cruelest
I was product of the mud
I grew among the himbos
I never failed them.
 
I was the macho of the hood
and my knife was the law
but time is changing
before I was tango
and now I'm tanguey1
 
Come, come take off your mask
I saw you wandering around the Constitucion restrooms
and at the Avenida Santa Fe which is so pretty
and at night is full of machos like you.
 
I was the macho of the hood
with the wings of a falcon
where I was passing flying
the girls weere begging
imploring for my love.
 
I was the macho of the hood
but time changed me
of living flying so much
I've been turning
into a faggot.
 
Come, come take off your mask
change your t-shirt, think that it's the best
because who left never left a single complain
alone or in couple he never returned.
 
Come, come gamble on this game
it's not easy to stop being a boy in life
because whith this of the crimes and the AIDS
to change your life you gotta man up.
 
Don't be scared
open your heart
in the ruffian neighbourhood
we are a lot.
 

• 1. So gay

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Ceylon tea

I have brothers, I have friends,
I have income, I have a coat
and where yesterday used to be a filthy barren land
I have house, I have nest,
my favourite couches,
I have light and I don't take off water of a well.
 
I have the heater on
and in the freezer I have kilos
of food what tomorrow will go to the oven
and a soundsystem
that break your ears,
I have LED and the TV became an ornament.
 
But I'm missing something essential, in this freedomless hell.
It's all wrong with the government...
They control me and suffocate me...They repress me and take off from me
the divine chance... of enjoying an one of a kind delight...
 
Because there's no Ceylon Tea.
Ceylon Tea... Ceylon Tea
They stopped it at customs with my sister's matress
that a slave sew at Taiwan...
And now here there's no Ceylon Tea.
Ceylon Tea... Ceylon Tea
 
I have a car and a bike,
I have remainder in the car
and my wife has done her... glasses with zoom.
But for making two leagues
because of a mare1,
I have half hour of traffic jam.
 
I have children in school
my grandmother is retired
and finally I could get good teeth...
I can talk about anything
and this weekend I travel abroad,
but I'm feeling like in a dictatorship anyway.
 
Because I'm missing something essential... and it isn't sugar, pepper and salt.
And even if the health covering works...
Something undisposable is missing...and the state is responsible
if at five PM... I don't enjoy such a special pleasure...
 
Because there's no Ceylon Tea.
Ceylon Tea... Ceylon Tea
They stopped it at customs with my sister's matress
that a slave sew at Taiwan...
And now here there's no Ceylon Tea.
Ceylon Tea... Ceylon Tea
 

• 1. Despective name for Cristina Fernandez de Kirchner

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Yes boss

In this kingdom of knit and order
who knows knows and who doesn't... is the boss,
that's why brother, we must hold on
if you couldn't be the 'number one'.
 
In this story, sketch or tragedy
as long as there are bosses there will be asslickers...
we all live doing that fencing
and we all have a boss on top.
 
I'm obedient and I never think,
have me in mind for a promotion.
you, the king... and I, the page,
giving you always this homage.
 
Yes boss, yes boss...
I take your suitcase, I kiss your sock.
Yes boss, yes boss
to anything you want to hear.
 
In this wild and heretic tell
anyone is the bad and the boss is good.
While the troop wages the battle
who do you think he will take the medals?
 
I'm obedient and I never think,
have me in mind for a promotion.
you, caviar... and I, salamin,
I'll go running when you call me.
 
Yes boss, yes boss...
I serve you a good coffee, I kiss your other feet.
Yes boss, yes boss...
to anything you order.
 
But someday without warning
if he's unaware I move his floor
 
Yes boss, yes boss...
they will all envy me and repeat me.
Yes boss, yes boss
and I'll earn without working.
 

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Don't hit me

Don't hit me, I'm Giordano,
Don't crush me, I'm a sworm.
Don't squeeze me, I'm a grain,
Don't blow me, I'm light.
 
Don't name me, I'm John Doe,
Don't asphalt me, I'm Venetian,
Don't swear me, I'm in vain.
Don't pay me... I'm Franciscan.
 
Who lives of the charity of the brother,
who has no debts like a good christian,
Who doesn't dazzle with pagan joys
and doesn't kneel befor the material.
 
Don't comb me, I'm Romano, 1
Don't cross me, I'm Medrano,
Don't wrinkle me, I'm a plain,
Don't smoke me, I'm Tuscan.
 
Don't love me, I'm a villian,
Don't follow me... I'm from La Rioja...2
Don't vote me, I'm tyrant,
Don't sell me, I'm sovereign...
 
Who doesn't want a northamerican world,
Who admires Facundo, Dorrego and Belgrano.
Who hates the block against the cubans
and the bombings that Bagdad endures.
 
Don't understand me, I'm gipsy,
Don't clean me, I'm filthy.
Don't smell me, I'm Cyrano,
Don't forget me, I'm an elder.
 
Don't drink me, 'Soy Cuyano',3
Don't light me, I'm butane.
Don't call me, I'm Susana,4
Don't swindle me... I'm Sicilian
 
Who like Corleone, Capone y Luciano
can cut your hand for a pizzeta,
swears vendetta, throws you to the pond
and then wants to be godfather of your grandaughter.
 
Don't tease me, I'm human,
Don't give me, I'm the ass.
Don't climb me, I'm a plain,
Don't stretch me, I'm midget.
 
Don't cut me, I'm apple tree,
Don't bet on me, I never win,
Don't yell at me, I'm close.
Don't miss me... I come back soon...
 
But don't hit me, I'm not Giordano,
don't 'pepe' me, I'm not Soriano,
it was all a joke this foolish Meccano
of phrases that now will end.
If you want I swear before a notary
that I won't sing such a bad song again.
 

• 1. Gerardo Romano, argentinian actor
• 2. 'Follow me, I won't let you down', famous saying by Carlos Saul Menem, former president
• 3. In 1992 there was a case of deaths by poisoning of wine with methilical alcohol coming from the distributor 'Soy Cuyano'
• 4. Susana Gimenez, argentinian actress and hostess.

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Milonga to stay

There are people who would leave today,
because they really believed
that they would have much money
there at the United States.
But there are others who go for broke
and don't take any dream as lost...
and never ever reject
the places where they grew.
Without gas, nor water, nor light,
I'm staying in Lanus.
 
There won't be many roads,
many well drawn lanes,
nor many foreign cars,
nor enlightened bridges.
Nor tunnels under water,
nor surveillance on the platform...
But the train that sometimes passes
leaves me close to home.
In the middle of the road (I stay)
in Ramos Mejía.
 
They say that in Europe
there's so many elegant people,
with a good brand of clothes,
the fashion always ahead.
But I don't see the grace
of the girls I find here,
the grace, not of the brand,
but of what one takes within...
With the same pants (of always)
I stay in Moron.
 
They offered my brother
a very prized porition
working as a waiter
on the golden caribbean.
But he who was the flag bearer
and graduated of the university,
prefers to be a lawyer
in his city even for free.
My brother also stays
in Avellaneda.
 
There are mystics who suspect
that God attends in the Vatican
and if you go over there
surely he will give a helping hand...
The hand comes heavy
and if god wen't down, he'd hang
the miraculous medal
to who earns four bucks a day
With my endless hope (I stay)
in San Martin.
 
Or else, I stay in Varela,
Vicente Lopez or Ituzaingó
or in my schoolyard
of Ciudadela that taught me...
That coming from the belts
that circle the capital
squeeze well the balls
to endure that it's all bad.
For wine and a choripan1
On the way to Luján.
 
I start with Liniers...
On a bounce to Moreno, passing by Merlo
and the plate station of Paso del Rey...
Long live Temperley and the Buenos Aires people
who endure and grow within the law
like in Laferrer, Alsina and Catán
and all the neighbourhood that now are not
in this song but they're present
in all the fronts of my heart...
And if I achieve success... I'm moving to Pilar...
 

• 1. A sausage on two loaves of bread

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I'm going to Europe

I'm going to Europe mom, I'm going to Europe,
I'm so depressed that I want to escape.
I'm going to Europe, get my clothes ready
and the cards of dad.
 
Maybe I get relief watching the jet set
at the top of the Eiffel Tower
and I forget those crazy goddmaned ignorants
who don't even know the Louvre.
 
I'm going to Europe mom, I'm going to Europe,
I have it decided, I can't stand anymore.
I'm going to Europe, cut it with the soup
because I wanna get there very slim.
 
I'd like to go to the beach to see
the topless of the sweden girl because I'm free.
The nudes if are blondes... is very artistic
here the cola less is tacky.
 
I'm going to Europe mom, I'm going to Europe, to Italy...
I'll make my way to Pisa, Roma, Milano.
I'm going to Europe to see if in the European Cup
they can stop Maradona.
 
But after the months passing I will miss a lot,
after all I'm sentimental too
that's why I'm thinking well this trip now,
I'm a bit sad but I know what to do...
 
I'm going to Europe mom, I'm going to Europe
I'll take the yerba mate
and four records of chamamé
and the photograph laughing all day
of Pocho and Carlos Gardel
 

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The oblivion rumba

All goes well... It's all so pretty
that I have nothing left to complain about.
All goes well... We reach to the end of the century
all together and nobody rule us.
All goes well... all our pockets filled
... and the neighbours salute each other in the street
... and the promises of the government were kept...
And we keep moving forward!
 
All goes well... On the friends day
Gimansia and Estudiantes hooligans.
made a barbacue to the benefit
of the police mutual society of La Plata.
All goes well... the clean riachuelo
... and the planes over the floating runway
... and the congressist who robbed is arrested...
And we keep moving forward!
 
I have it well deserved for being wary.
I still see ghosts everywhere,
I'm still standing in the middle of the road...
 
And I can't dance the oblivion rumba,
I'm still in the beat of whatever I feel like
And I can't dance the oblivion rumba,
I like more the endurance rhythm... Oh...
 
All goes well... It's always sunday
look that almost nobody works here.
All goes well... is it so funny?...
I see more children in the street everytime.
All goes well... The old murderers
regreted on all the channels
and there's oil and seafood at the Falklands...
And we keep moving forward!
 
Having always more of the same wears me out...
Stop the world I wanna get off.
One step more and we'll fall off the cliff.
 
And I can't dance the oblivion rumba,
I'm still in the beat of whatever I feel like
And I can't dance the oblivion rumba,
I like more the endurance rhythm... Oh...
 
All goes well... Playing the distracted
If they don't hit me why will I get angry.
All goes well... Me, Argentinian...
the last applicant for the first world.
All goes well... cover your ears,
or else you will find out
that someone laughs when you repeat screaming:
That we keep moving forward!
 
Look how many good things I missed...
For being ironic, idealist and militant,
I'm still standing in the middle of the road...
 
And I can't dance the oblivion rumba,
I'm still in the beat of whatever I feel like
And I can't dance the oblivion rumba,
I like more the endurance rhythm... Oh...
 

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We tie it with a wire

In this holy land nobody gets scared if there's a cyclon
and nobody takes it personal if the dining room ceiling falls off.
In this holy land we never lack the imagination
to fix the kettle and placing the bed with precision.
 
We tie it with a wire... we tie it,
we tie it with a wire sir,
we tie it with a wire,
with this hunger there's no other solution.
 
When the bus driver pulls the break without compassion,
asks you coins and on top he yells to the bottom
When the store man gives you bad-flavoured noodles
we'll only ask: if you got eggs1 give me those two.
 
We tie it with a wire... we tie it,
we tie it with a wire sir,
we tie it with a wire,
like a beef roulade and let it rot in the sun.
 
If because of the foreign debt you get sick of measles,
and the nurse comes with an enema of assholol.
If the end of the world comes in a second by the explosion
don't worry baby we still have a salvation.
 
We tie it with a wire... we tie it,
we tie it with a wire sir,
we tie it with a wire,
and a bit of duck tape.
 

• 1. balls

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The things and the people

Don't expect the metal to twist like rubber
don't expect the crystal to emit some smell.
Don't expect mercy, the wolf to not eat you,
don't expect truth if I'm kidding.
 
The things and the people have shape
don't expect they dye with the color you like the most,
to spin in your ring.
 
Don't expect a gale if four drops fall,
don't expect the salt to sweeten the defeat.
Don't expect the sign of the broken stars,
don't expect a loyal step if the foot wears a boot.
 
The things and the people have shape,
don't expect to turn them into your people and your things,
to spin in your ring.
 
Take me
the way they made me,
with crooked mouth when I laugh,
Take me
when I tangle
among what I want to say,
Take me
as a low average in the grade book,
take me with the face, the nape and the profile
from the top to the bottom.
 
Take me
the way they made me,
not like the good guy of the film,
Take me
when I remember
the sane myself I never was,
Take me
not as a joke, be more gentle
take me with the face, the nape and the profile
the way I take you.
 

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Damned Serrat

How you made me laugh
and cry and feel that the party begins,
how you made me happy
far from my country that crushes and stinks.
 
How you achieved to enlighten in your voice
the poet of yesterday, of your broken Spain
and tell me how the very woman
I love went behind your words.
 
Damned Serrat... Damned thief...
You copied the idea I had
right before I wrote it,
damned Serrat... But who could say:
 
Oh, my love, without you I don't understand awakening
Oh, my love, without you my bed is wide.
Oh, my love that keeps me awake honestly.
Between you and me, there's loneliness and a handful of frost.
 
How you made me suffer
for Irene and Manuel and the farewell of Lucia.
How you achieved to lie to me so well,
that I can even believe that today it can be a great day
 
How you achieved so much precision
describing my white and dusty town
if the sacristan haven't seen you there,
nor the priest, nor the officer, nor the dust nor the wind.
 
Damned Serrat... damned song...
Beating at the doors of my heart
that will always be waiting fully open,
beating at your rhythm, like when you sung:
 
Ay... Ay utopia... Sweet as our everyday bread.
 
How you achieved to talk so much about me
and the crazies who love your subject here
All I ever do is thinking of you
when I want to write and the poem isn't born
 
How you achieved to defeat the times,
with my father before, with my daughters now
who thank you for making us see
that from time to time life makes you fall in love.
 
Blessed Serrat... Big brother
of anyone who wants to make a true song
about this time that pushes and destroys
or the little things that happen to us.
 
Blessed trobadour, don't turn off your voice,
what do we do, in this corner
without hearing in your verse the friend embracing,
who can go on and what will be of me if you're far from home.
 

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The family

The Sundays with the family
a box of surprises
the humor on the table
hand made pasta and TV
The Sundays with the family
caresses jokes and emotions
as desserts discussions
gossips truco and coffee.
 
The family is a typical clan
they share the laughter the anger and the bread
The family is the most faithful copy
it looks like yours, mine and his
The family is a little country
if it's together it can be happy
The family invites you to come
in the good times and the bad times
it will always make you a place.
 
The Sundays with the family
with brothers father and mother in law
with some black sheep
it couldn't miss.
The Sundays with the family
to remove your sorrows
with smell of good stuff
from the mother hands
 

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The fashion of nothing

It seems that it's time to think only in nothing,
to show empty brains... loud laughs.
And alike is not the same, it seems that this nothing
is full of selfishness, of made-up lies.
 
And I prefer to be different and not signing on the herd
and not offering my sacrifice to the service of who rules.
And I prefer to be different, more person, less customer
and I prefer to use my own voice to speak face to face...
 
And I prefer you with your washed face,
simply the way you are, without selling the soul to the devil.
 
It seems that it's time to think only in nothing,
it seems like an exhibitionism of ignorance...
And alike is not the same, who ignores, silences and gives consent
and is another accomplice of the sign that will swindle us tomorrow.
 
And I prefer to be different and not signing on the herd
and not offering my sacrifice to the service of who rules.
And I prefer another destiny, among rocks if it's needed
even if I get lost in the way, even if I die in the battle
 
And I prefer that you forget me if you expect my word
to go to the playlist of this fashion of nothing.
 

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Trigger happy

If you're young and walk by an innocent street
you'll find there are more uniforms than people.
If it's a rock concert and your gang is unruly,
get ready for a shock... Trigger happy is waiting.
 
Trigger happy, lord of fear
who takes a nazi in his finger,
Trigger happy, kick and scream,
being young is almost a crime.
And his shoot searches thirsty
dudes with piercings, without documents.
He doesn't looka t you, he justs aims at you,
he shoots first and asks later.
 
Trigger happy wants silent and serious boys
who go to a concert like they go to a cementery.
Trigger happy what will you do with your fixed term shot
if you find out by shooting that it was your son who fell.
 
Trigger happy, lord of fear
who takes a nazi in his finger,
Trigger happy, kick and scream,
being young is almost a crime.
And his shoot searches thirsty
dudes with piercings, without documents.
He doesn't looka t you, he justs aims at you,
he shoots first and asks later.
 
Trigger happy sir,
so much death gathered.
 

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Song for you to love me

I drew your heart
over my flag,
I left it hanging eternally in the balcony
for you to love me.
 
I made you a new song...
I'm having three hundred...
there's no melody that I haven't tried,
for you to love me.
 
I'll take you my dear,
even in my last breath,
I'll take you in my voice
your name like the wind on the high sail,
I'll take you to a painless harbor.
And beyond too...
 
I'll take you my dear,
even in my last verse,
until my song
becomes a memory of someone who tried
to change the world and never achieved it...
but the world didn't change me.
 
I tried to bring the sun down for you
without a ladder,
I tried it writing 'a while ago' in Sol minor
for you to love me.
 
As I'm not a doctor
I didn't heal your pains
but if it were the case I'll pull out my heart today
for you to love me.
 

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Lollipops and watercolors

When a peso was money my teacher was a lion
my dad was Tarzan and me... the chubby in the corner
who used to go to the stadium to cheer from the ehart
and it was God's fault if my team didn't win.
 
Lollipops and watercolors, hide-and-seek and table football,
I was scared of the flags and the smell of injections.
I used to be a pirate when the yard was a gallion
then I wanted to be a plane, thirteen years and two wings
but just when I was going up the porter put me down
and next time boy you'll fly with a kick.
 
Grade books, pens, blue jacket and tie
I was gazing at the flags, I didn't understand the inscription.
 
When the world was a map I dreamed of a trip or two
then the map was a pain that was choking in the south.
Now I return home, I cry for who didn't return,
of my yard a former battlefield was left.
 
And laced boots and rosettes imported from Hong Kong
I can't find my flag I want to find it with you.
 
There must be a way of painting our color.
There must be a flag for me and you.
 

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Song of the newest love

Lean your back on my seats,
save your words inside my story.
 
I give you my branch, you set the fire on
to make the flame of the newest love.
 
And life hangs fascinated only from your ahir,
and the flames detach form your body
and your body is the heat I lacked
and life is left outside for a moment
and my desires wander by your body
and your body never says enough.
 
If your love kills me I die happy
if I lack your love I invent another.
 
I put in it your face, your color, your chest,
and I leave it working to go without stopping.
 

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Teflon pan

I haven't heard you... In the days of the thundering silence.
I haven't heard you with the mothers of the pain,
you didn't sound neither from afar, for the children, for the elder... forgotten.
I haven't heard you... It could be that I'm not hearing well,
but at the edge of the Neuquen routes,
I haven't heard you while they killed my teacher by the back.
And among our dissapeared songs
I never heard the sound of your resisting cover,
that resists in understanding that there are so many
who in their poor pans only keep an illusion.
 
Teflon fan, return to the drawer
the street belongs to the militant pans...
With brave smell of spontaneous demonstration.
Teflon fan, go to the bazaars,
or to sound with the militar drums...
As many times I heard you sounding.
 
I haven't heard you... When the noise of the factories stopped.
when April filled its sea of tears,
I haven't heard you with the parents of the teenager december...suffocated.
I haven't heard you... It could be that my ears hear poorly,
but I haven't heard you at the rural exposition,
claiming for wage of the mate grower hands,
for the profitability of the workers,
for the coming time to come for everyone.
I haven't heard you nor I will because there's no way
of joining your greedy elbow, with my open heart..
 
Teflon fan, return to the drawer
From the furnitures of the elegant houses,
that the cooks will miss you.
Teflon fan, go to the bazaars,
or to sound in the liberal concerts...
As many times I heard you sounding.
 
I haven't heard you... In the Kosteki and Santillan bridge,.
I haven't heard you for the sugar cane mill in Tucuman,
I haven't heard you in the evictions, neither in the flooded neighbourhoods...on this side.
I haven't heard you... In the corner of Rosario that blasted,
when the angel of the bike fell,
and his little angels were left without food.
And I never heard you ringing from here below,
for a jobless young, adrift.
It must be because from up there, form the highest floors
the scare and the wounds are never seen.
 
Teflon fan, return to the drawer...
I'm staing in a student demonstration
where you never sounded.
Teflon fan, go to the bazaars,
or to get filled with the most delicious foods
that can't be found in the street...
Teflon fan... go to cook.
 

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.