Jorge Lazaroff - De Generaciones Лирицс транслатион то енглисх

About generations

The thing starts to work out
The spirits are mild
and everyone in their places
It's the time to play
 
Impossible to forget
Impossible to forget
 
Knowing the commotion to be
the hearts beat
Dread and all in it's placee
It's the time to play
It's the time to attack
 
Impossible to forget
Impossible to forget
 
The march starts to sound
The sounds manifest
The legs trembleing
The pulse sped up
The beat sped up
Let the wheat come, let the corn come
 
Impossible to forget
Impossible to forget
 
They started to sing
Let the wheat come, let the corn come
The throat chokes
They breath song inhale gas
The cough repeats smothered
 
Impossible to forget
Impossible to forget
 
The music feels touching
Tears sprout and more
Life explodes in melody
Reasons of force
Proclamations that sing the truth
 
Impossible to forget
 
High whistles, siren
But the percussion kills
Kills you
Cracks you up
Blows you up
Kick on the floor
The kick
Losing the beat little by little
 
The percussion cornered
Surrounded
Resounding
We can't breath anymore
 
Sounded deaf deafness
Too late
Let the wheat come, let the corn come
Too late
Sounded deaf deafness
Too late
Let the wheat come, let the corn come
 
The ear is all siren
The cough repeats smothered
 
From here, there, and over there
From there, here, and over here
Dammit!
it's the time to
 
-
 
Protagonist where are you
of this brutal scenario
Trumpeters where are you
Writers creators
where did they go
 
Impossible to forget
Impossible to forget
 
Are so many the deads now
Deads for our music
Many dissapeared from the map
Ask their moms
Others had to fly
They went beyond the sea
Somewhere else with our milonga
 
Others went inside...
 
Impossible to forget
Impossible to forget
 
Others went inside their homes
They don't wan't to act anymore
Their hearts doesn't work
Their beliefs are crushed
They left their place
in the orchestra
 
it's the time to humilliate
uninspire
 
Impossible to forget
Let the wheat come, let the corn come
 
There's always an excuse to give
That nothing can be done
That it's all said and done
That I'm back again
Now I sing from my window
Well safe of the terrace
 
There's always an excuse to give
That the guitar is for the youngs
I must think of my children
in which future will I give them
Which?
Which?
Which?
Which?
 
Now I must only work
close my eyes, grow up
it's the time to vegetate
make money
climb
forget
 
Impossible to forget
Forget
Memory commits its task
Forget
Impossible to forget
Forget
Memory remembers its history
Forget
Impossible to forget
Forget
Memory remembers its memory
Forget
Impossible to forget
 
Let the wheat come, let the corn come
Let the wheat come, let the corn come
Let the wheat come, let the corn come
Let the wheat come, let the corn come
Let the wheat come, let the corn come
 
Because I'm cold.
 

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.


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