Las Calles
Las calles de nuestros barrios nuncan toman prisioneros
quiebran al que no resiste sea local o sea extranejero
ay la paciencia no existe con los que son majaderos
cada victima es culpable, si cayo por traicionero.
Que paso con esos guapos que alardeaban con su vida
terminaron desonrando el honor de nuestra esquina
ni siquiera el sobrenombre, sobrevive en la avenida
le quitaron los colmillos, el collar y la leontina.
Son paginas estas calles que se cogen con los años
escritas en un idioma que no entienden los extraños
nacimos de muchas madres pero aqui solo hay hermanos
en mi calleeeeeeee . . .
la vida y la muerte bailan con la cerveza en la mano
Soy de aqui de los que sobrevivieron
soy de aqui . . .
yo soy esa esquina chiquita bonita bendita, de los que nunca se fueron
soy de alli de los que sobrevivieron
de los que que enfrentando la adversidad
cogieron herida y golpe en cantidad y no se rindieron
soy de alli de los que sobrevivieron
comiendo arroz blanco con porck and beans
en plato hondo y ancho y con cuchara y bien frito el huevo
soy de alli de los que sobrevivieron
alma de poeta, abrazos de amantes, piernas de calles y lujos de hielo
soy de alli de los que sobrevivieron
a puro corazon me fui de Panamá a colon caminando con maelo
pa llegar a portobelo y saludar al nazareno
soy de alli de los que sobrevivieron
yo soy el hijo de Anolan y a pie sin coche
sobrevivi de dia, sobrevivi la noche
soy de aqui de los que sobrevivieron
yo soy de alli, yo soy de alli tu sabes que si
Letra por: Alberto Martinez (Panameño)
The Streets
The streets of our neighborhoods never take prisoners
They break those who can't resist, whether local or foreign
Oh, patience doesn't exist with those who are rude
Every victim is guilty, if they fell for a traitor.
What happened to those tough guys who boasted about their lives?
They ended up dishonoring the honor of our corner
Not even the nickname survives on the avenue
They took away the fangs, the necklace, and the watch chain.
These streets are pages that age over the years
Written in a language that strangers don't understand
We were born from many mothers but here there are only brothers
In my street...
Life and death dance with beer in hand.
I'm from here, from those who survived
I'm from here...
I'm that little, beautiful, blessed corner, of those who never left
I'm from there, from those who survived
From those who faced adversity
They took wounds and blows in quantity and didn't give up
I'm from there, from those who survived
Eating white rice with pork and beans
In a deep and wide plate, with a spoon and a well-fried egg
I'm from there, from those who survived
Poet's soul, lovers' embraces, street legs, and ice luxuries
I'm from there, from those who survived
With pure heart, I left Panama for Colon walking with Maelo
To arrive at Portobelo and greet the Nazarene.
I'm from there, from those who survived
I'm the son of Anolan and on foot without a car
I survived the day, I survived the night.
I'm from here, from those who survived
I'm from there, I'm from there, you know it.
Lyrics by: Alberto Martinez (Panamanian)