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Farewell of the Great Tuleque

Carnival
God Momo deamed of you again
and the murga, wakes up divine, fleeting swallow
that will always return.
 
We're workers in love
who come to find the Colombina
shadow of the shadow of a corner
the night that love was closed down
 
Palpitating of happy songs
today we come to the nighbourhood to leave
lampposts of pretty colours
for them to shine on every hallway
redoubling hope and bravery
with daisies of love and peace
for the missing children
for the children to come
uruguayans, never again
 
Riding on the peace of the breeze
the murga of the smoke parts
little by little without hurry nor pause
the smoke one will always return
this murga that says and doesn't shout
this murga that won't fail
will come by the streets
dwelling in life
the smoke one will commit
 
Recited
Is leaving, is leaving the murga that says and doesn't shout
the murga that came and leaves
this murga for the Daisy
this murga will always return
 

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Forgetting the goodbye

I don't care to know where you go
your days don't matter
what I want is one more hour
with the soul lit
 
Since that fleeting glance
from that lost bar
I didn't even try to explain
what I feel with you
 
How time passes
when I'm with you
so many beautiful moments
forgetting the goodbye
 
What's the use of your name or your age
or your old worries
my wish is to hear you come
when I expect it less
 
Suddenly I wish to say
what I live tonight
but I know it's better this way
without words that disturb
 
How time passes
when I'm with you
so many beautiful moments
forgetting the goodbye
 
I don't care if after today
I don't care for the memory
what I want is to sleep better
tangling your hair
 
And if you say that you won't return
it will be a terrible dream
and it will be the happiest awakening
because I know it's impossible
 
How time passes
when I'm with you
so many beautiful moments
forgetting the goodbye
 

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She there

In the formica of the twilight
the stains of your nicotine
love transformed
curiosity appeared
the winter getting worse
the scottish scarf
wraps your last goodbye
like always, Cristina
 
They'll never tell you
because it rained so much
from the Sportman to the college
of white dress
the leaves that fly
the rules that go down
and the desires of leaving or staying
forever, Graciela
 
Some sunday was
early in the morning
my dream wasn't enough
for you to feel pity
you sucked my blood
you swallowed the poison in it
and here we are
since always Susana
 

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The sister of La Coneja

In a dirty warehouse,
bastion of Ciudad Vieja1
the sister of La Coneja,
has lost her virginity.
Witness in the dark,
a moth eaten matress,
that was left printed
with indelible memory,
and its the origin of this story,
that I don't know if it's true.
 
It was like it always happens,
she fell in love with Tito,
that skinny brunette,
who charmed her with cuddles.
And challenging the fate
he had enough of making out,
the hornet's nest got stirred up,
sixteen years is too much
when he hits you like a dog
and life asks for sex.
 
Later well know stories,
the what can we do with it
The you can't have him,
the I already got the money.
A crying, four caresses,
and everything will be all right.
The back of a warehouse,
the farewell to the skinny Tito,
and the beginning of a journey,
more swayed than a train.
 
Today she's a Mrs so and so,
and has summer holidays in the east.
Anyone who sees her won't imagine
she was from playa Pascual2
Her hoax is going bad,
she says 'children' and 'college'3
she really does a good job
she rides an outstanding car
she wears rubber sandals instead of jute
and doesn't ask for the prices.
 
Now she really has fun,
in a good matress.
Short la garçonne hairstyle
And glasses with chain.
She goes to the psychiatrist,
she doesn't even name her sister,
but she's marked by a shadow
she never could avoid
how she got screwed,
there at Ciudad Vieja.
 
The sister of La Coneja
 

• 1. A neighbourhood in Montevideo
• 2. A small town in the outskirts of Montevideo. To say that she's from there is like to call her a lousy woman.
• 3. instead of 'kids' and 'school'

This translation by Diazepan Medina is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International License. It doesn't apply to the translations with a source.

The lights of the stadium

We all spent some daybreak
By the door of the bar where life passes
Where at midnight the ghosts revive
And the poet welcomes his muse
 
Where hours pass sadder than her
like a gesture of an old troupe
Where the most beautiful girl leaves again
Leaving scents that hollow the soul
 
When comes the time when there's no more flirting
And the spaniard yawns while he counts the money
Three haggards are left raising the elbow
The clinking chalice of holy water
 
It's all over, however the guys
Fasten to the counter, eternal witness
They argue, embrace, remember, smile
It's simple to see them, they're old friends
 
One has in the eyes the smoke of the billards
To the other, the selloff took his illusions away
The third is the only who calls himself normal
Just him who lived taking care of a tie
 
The night is dying, the damned shows up
The waiter washes the alcohol away
And one of the three says when he sees it's lightening
'Hold up, che!, are just... the lights of the stadium '
 

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What I didn't give you

The lighthouses dazzle in the curve
The walls, cold like tombs
Tonight I don't understand what's going on in me
The steps marked in the sand
The hours cover their dilema
Tonight I don't understand what's going on in me
 
How many times so late
The wind, the wind
The wind, the wind rises
So many times late
I'm sorry, I'm sorry
I'm sorry, I'm sorry for what I didn't give you
 
An echo of possible guffaws
Removes misted turnings
Tonight I don't understand what's going on in me
The glasses show their boleros
To the world of diesel-powered snores
Tonight I don't understand what's going on in me
 

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The future murguistas

A shadow near the half barrel grill
Without a buck in his pocket
With the sweater on his shoulders
Slicked back hairstyle
Studying the rehearsal
Rushing the embers
Quietly coveting
The paint and the desguise
 
Peeping at the girls
Of a January night
Measuring the glasses
Of the ones in the bar counter
The future murguista
Sponges a cigarrette
While they set clear for him
You don't come if you're underage
 
He'll talk about his childhood
When the moment comes
Without saying it in words
Without naming the pain
It will be enough with his accent
In the starry night
In the group of middle voices
With a people around
 
Where are they from?, where do they come out?
The heirs of the tradition
Listen to another voice, whose it is?
The murga lives, nobody teaches it anywhere
The boys know it and later they want to sing
 
Illuminating the past
Challenging the future
Denouncing the present
With a simple ritual
The future murguistas
Come to see every night
The murga rehearsing
The future carnival.
 
There are traditions that are deader than a pharaoh
Who dances the Pericon?
Who gives the communion to the kid?
There are others living in the corners of the city
The boys know it and later they want to sing
 

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Unexplainable

Unexplainably run the hands of the clock
And in the unexplainable window the sun borns again
A memory unexplainably wanders around
Unexplainable like the world is love
 
So many times I dreamed I come out to my balcony
An unknown voice dedicates me a song
However when I wake up I recognize the trobadour
Unexplainable like the world is love
 
Unexplainably a woman
So many times hides her love
But I don't know to hide
I don't even know why
My unexplainable madness doesn't hide
It's like boredom or passion
Unexplainable as always is love
 
Dabadaba dabadaba...
 
A memory unexplainably wanders around
Unexplainable like the world is love
Unexplainable like the world is love
 
Unexplainable as always
Unexplainable like you and like me
 

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Kite of La Farola

Come on, it's blowing twisted
Don't let it fall
Sewing and painting
how pretty it is
Pulling and pulling
how pretty it goes
Mop skirts setting the beat
Light canes that know to fly
Give more string it reaches the sun
 
Kite of La Farola1
Girl of Parque Rodó
Sewing and painting
how pretty it is
Pulling and pulling
how pretty it goes
It grew angry in the southern wind
Painted of violet in some blue sky
Give more string it reaches the sun
 
Pull and pull and climb with the kite
My love is gone
Pull and pull and rise
And I go to the clouds
Pull and pull and climb with the violet
My love is gone
Pull and pull and rise
And I go to the clouds
 
The murga of the Ghost Train
Winning drums and cymbals
Sewing and painting
how pretty it is
Pulling and pulling
how pretty it goes
Mop skirts setting the beat
Light canes that know to fly
Give more string it reaches the sun
 

• 1. The lighthouse of Punta Carretas

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Columbina

In the commotion of the Momus1 hussars,
dazzled by the lights of another neighbourhood,
that murguista2 waving with his hood,
was saying goodbye, as always, of the stage.
 
Among the cloud of painted children,
he saw the smile a princess was giving
among the faces of mixed colours,
he doubted if the courtesy was for him.
 
And just in case he dedicated a bow
to the girl that remained in the night.
In the moment when the truck is about to leave,
a flying kiss was posing in his window.
 
And step by step the anxiety hurted him,
there was little left of the night timetable,
one by one the cuples were going on
they were leaving the last stage.
 
He dumped the desguise in the back of the seat,
he wiped the paint remains with his hand.
A flying cab was taking him against the wind,
he saw her right at the exit of the tablado.
 
'How are you?', said the murguista to the girl
who cutted him with her indifferent look,
she said 'fine', and left him just like that.
Again the princess was losing herself among the crowd.
 
Don't ever let the echo of the bass drums turn off,
don't let them take away the toys of the stage
I want to live in the kingdom of god Momus,
I want to be a hussar of his devilish army.
 
Don't let the yellow light bulbs turn off,
don't ever let the retiradas3 leave.
I want to sing a song to Columbina,4
I want to take her drawed smile.
 

• 1. In the greek mythology, the god of satire and mockery. It is widely used in the Uruguayan carnival
• 2. Member of a murga group
• 3. The retirada is the final song of the repertoire
• 4.

This translation by Diazepan Medina is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International License. It doesn't apply to the translations with a source.

Coal and salt

Coal and salt
On the street, coal and salt
The remains of a beautiful crystal
Sulfur and honey
A landscape of sulfur and honey
A wandering age and a gesture of ink and paper
 
Coal and salt
Comparing coal and salt
Going through the future clothes line
Moon and soot
In the sky, moon and soot
Wrapping castles that keep a dead limit
 
Lights of the bay that go over there
Boats swaying to the wind
Lights of the bay that go over there
Boats swaying slowly
Bitter
Armored
To the wind
 
Man and woman
On the street, man and woman
The remains of a beautiful love
Mare and steed
A love of mare and steed
Dusty carriage hurrying their infidel hoofs
 
Man and woman
On the floor, man and woman
Breathing the future pleasure
Castle and bishop
As always, catle and bishop
Avoiding words, keeping an ancient pen
 
Lights of the bay that go over there
Boats swaying to the wind
Lights of the bay that go over there
Boats swaying slowly
Bitter
Armored
Unfamous
Eager
To the wind
 

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Goodbye Youth

Goodbye youth
I can't hide my white hair
goodbye, youth, to the desires
to come out again
With marcha camion1
With grappa and lemon2
I have a verse left to say
before leaving...
(Goodbye heart)
 
Goodbye carnival
(Goodbye Barrio Sur)3
Time doesn't pass by in vain
Goodbye Barrio Sur the hand
of many was cruel
They weren't convinced
by the borocotó 4
they see a new graveyard
good for them
Goodbye Cuareim 5
 
Goodbye to the slope6
(Goodbye heart)
The body no longer answers
goodbye youth, where
will I go if you're not there
I look like a Pierrot
that remained sad
with the memory of a disguise
that has no more use
Goodbye Marabú
 
Goodbye carnival
(Goodbye youth)
I promise to return fully
goodbye carnival, I hope
to go over you again
To sing to the harshness
a new cuplé
until the sound of the drum
marks another ending
Goodbye carnival
 
Look like a lie the things I see
On the Montevideo streets...
 

• 1. Typical drum beat of the murga
• 2.
• 3. A neighbourhood in Montevideo
• 4. An onomatopeia for the drum line of the candombe
• 5. A street in the Barrio Sur.
• 6. Generally refering to the stadium galleries

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Maybe Cheché

There at the sky they're calling you
And in one of those times you'll hear them
There at the ground they're calling you
And in one of those times you'll die
Maybe Cheché
I tell you che
 
There in the wind they're looking for you
And in one of those times they'll announce
That the player will stay in the field
Though his wings can't take it
Maybe Cheché
I tell you che
 
And when nobody remember your soul
When a cathedral burns down
Fire hands will open your wings
And your caw will reborn
Maybe Cheché
I tell you che
 
Fenix, Fenix
Won't descend
 

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Nobody told me anything

The last train was passing
an early morning tuesday
and I spent it sleeping
because nobody told me anything
that the train that passed on tuesday
was leaving the tracks.
 
And I never came to the date,
and I never returned for her.
And here I am in another bed
holding a bottle,
resurrecting on the ceiling
the caresses of the prettiest one
 
The last train was running
an early morning tuesday
leaving behind a valley
of sleeping faces.
My last train was leaving
and nobody told me anything.
 
Nobody told me,
Nobody told me anything.
Nobody told me anything.
Nadie me dijo anything.
Nobody told me anything.
 

This translation by Diazepan Medina is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International License. It doesn't apply to the translations with a source.