Historia de Juan Fiel
(Milonga)
Se vino de Río Grande,
me imagino por qué causa;
como de acero, de frío,
derecho como una lanza,
y en un portugués pausado,
musical como gotera,
decía: Eu sou eu, João Fiel,
y toda su historia era.
Cuando las guerras civiles,
se enganchó con el gobierno
y una cinta colorada
se destiñó en su sombrero.
Nunca se quejó por nada,
entre el polvo, bajo lluvia,
a pie o a caballo; muerto
de hambre, de sed, de penurias.
Pero, frente al enemigo
era una terrible máquina
de herir y de despenar,
con carabina o con lanza;
pero, frente al enemigo,
aunque no entendía nada;
y qué podía entender,
o mataba o lo mataban.
Vuelto a la ley de la selva
su facón -la refalosa-
tocó tras muchos combates,
y esto fue casi una norma,
y esto, aunque lo callen muchos,
en los dos bandos fue ley
que, en esta carnicería,
no estaba solo Juan Fiel.
Yo no sé si un documento
o en algún parte de guerra,
vivo o muerto, se le asigna
realidad a su existencia,
pero Juan Fiel y su sombra
es la realidad secreta
de tanta milonga heroica,
su fondo de asco y vergüenza.
Donde la muerte sembró
su agricultura siniestra,
Juan Fiel, la tierra purpúrea,
que pisaste, es esta tierra;
donde la muerte sembró
su agricultura siniestra,
Juan Fiel, la tierra purpúrea,
que pisaste, es esta tierra.
Juan Fiel, la tierra purpúrea,
que pisaste, es esta tierra.
Coro
Es esta tierra...
Juan Fiel's Story
(Milonga)
He came from Rio Grande,
I can imagine why;
like steel, cold,
straight as a spear,
and in a slow Portuguese,
musical like a dripping,
he said: I am me, John Faithful,
and his whole story was.
When the civil wars,
he got involved with the government
and a red ribbon
faded on his hat.
He never complained about anything,
among the dust, under the rain,
on foot or on horseback; dead
from hunger, thirst, hardships.
But, facing the enemy,
he was a terrible machine
to hurt and to kill,
with a rifle or a spear;
but, facing the enemy,
even though he didn't understand anything;
and what could he understand,
either he killed or they killed him.
Back to the law of the jungle
his knife - the dance -
touched after many battles,
and this was almost a rule,
and this, even though many keep quiet about it,
in both sides it was a law
that, in this slaughter,
Juan Fiel was not alone.
I don't know if a document
or in some war report,
alive or dead, reality is assigned
to his existence,
but Juan Fiel and his shadow
are the secret reality
of so many heroic tales,
its background of disgust and shame.
Where death sowed
its sinister agriculture,
Juan Fiel, the purplish land,
that you stepped on, is this land;
where death sowed
its sinister agriculture,
Juan Fiel, the purplish land,
that you stepped on, is this land.
Juan Fiel, the purplish land,
that you stepped on, is this land.
Chorus
This is the land...