Recitado Luna Park 1985
Mi canto se hace grito
Porque el canto me ha quedado pequeño en la garganta
Yo traigo el grito de aquel
Que no ha podido gritar que lo que ganan no le alcanza
Yo no temo gritar
Porque este grito me viene arando el corazã³n y el aire
Es el mismo grito
Que en el chaco grito mi abuelo y no lo escucharon
Ellos quieren que calle
Quieren que calle porque mi silencio les ayuda a golpear al indefenso
Les tienen miedo al puñal de mi guitarra
Y las voces de escucho de los vientos, ¡quieren que calle!
Quieren que tan solo mi canto hable de amor o de paisajes
A mi me duele el dolor
De tanta gente que le han talado con hambre su coraje
¡Amo el amor! Amo el amor de las muchachas dulces
Amo el romance del sauce con el ruido
Pero amo al hombre de la espalda rota
Y a su hambre y su dolor los hago mão
Vengo a gritar, vengo a gritar aquello que otros callan
¡De amor y besos abundan los cantores!
Yo traigo el grito herido de mi pueblo
¡No es culpa mãa si no traigo flores!
Recited Luna Park 1985
My song becomes a scream
Because the song has remained small in my throat
I bring the scream of those
Who couldn't shout that what they earn is not enough
I'm not afraid to shout
Because this scream is plowing through my heart and the air
It's the same scream
That in the Chaco my grandfather shouted and they didn't listen
They want me to be silent
They want me to be silent because my silence helps them to strike the defenseless
They fear the dagger of my guitar
And the voices I hear from the winds, they want me to be silent!
They want only my song to speak of love or landscapes
It hurts me the pain
Of so many people whose courage has been cut down by hunger
I love love! I love the love of sweet girls
I love the romance of the willow with the noise
But I love the man with the broken back
And I make his hunger and pain mine
I come to shout, I come to shout what others keep silent
There are plenty of singers of love and kisses!
I bring the wounded scream of my people
It's not my fault if I don't bring flowers!