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Danny y Mis Ponis

The Who

Danny And My Ponies

Danny laid back and surveyed the view
A king on his bench, he was cold, he was blue
I asked for permission to give him a note
He nodded, not movin', just scratched at his throat

Always smiled slightly, seemed so bemused
Like he was the one, who was glad to be used
I had a sense he was playin' a part
But I had to help, for he tore at my heart

He would walk, his feet wrapped in rags
He wandered the neighborhood, carrying his bags
The pride in his eyes would so clearly flash
Like I was the one who needed the cash

The tramps in our England, have always to walk
From Philip to Dorchester, fifteen miles strong
The tramps in our country have no where's to hug
Home hysterics give comfort, there's no time to talk

Danny would lay, he'd never speak
Here was a man who had attained his peak
No fables to tell, and nothing held back
This was a man who had led a strong path

Old soldier, perhaps, or a worn, old jailbird
Who'd never a hand clean and never a word
For two hundred down, my project had fled
Danny was gone, or may well have been dead

He walked slowly, no hurryin' to death
Took in turn his view, with his very last breath
The river, the mist and the slightly grey sky
Danny was waiting, patient to die

The tramps in our England, have always to walk
From Philip to Dorchester, fifteen miles strong
The tramps in our country have no where's to hug
Home hysterics give comfort, there's no time to talk

Danny laid back, looked down and the plain
The king on his bench with magnificent mane
I asked his permission to give him a note
He nodded, not movin', just scratched at his throat

It's dangerous to faction as those who live rough
Danny was a giant, solid and tough
He allowed me to gift him and scribble this song
Without bein' draconian, he lived just as long

Danny y Mis Ponis

Danny se recostó y contempló la vista
Un rey en su banco, estaba frío, estaba azul
Le pedí permiso para darle una nota
Asintió, sin moverse, solo se rascó la garganta

Siempre sonreía ligeramente, parecía tan desconcertado
Como si fuera él quien se alegraba de ser usado
Tenía la sensación de que estaba interpretando un papel
Pero tenía que ayudar, porque me destrozaba el corazón

Caminaba, sus pies envueltos en harapos
Recorría el vecindario, cargando sus bolsas
El orgullo en sus ojos brillaba claramente
Como si yo fuera quien necesitaba el dinero

Los vagabundos en nuestra Inglaterra, siempre tienen que caminar
De Philip a Dorchester, quince millas de distancia
Los vagabundos en nuestro país no tienen a dónde abrazar
Los histerismos hogareños reconfortan, no hay tiempo para hablar

Danny se recostaba, nunca hablaba
Aquí estaba un hombre que había alcanzado su punto máximo
Sin fábulas que contar, y nada oculto
Este era un hombre que había seguido un camino fuerte

Viejo soldado, quizás, o un viejo presidiario desgastado
Que nunca tuvo una mano limpia y nunca una palabra
Por doscientas monedas, mi proyecto había huido
Danny se había ido, o bien podría haber muerto

Caminaba lentamente, sin apresurarse hacia la muerte
Observaba su vista, con su último aliento
El río, la niebla y el cielo ligeramente gris
Danny estaba esperando, paciente para morir

Los vagabundos en nuestra Inglaterra, siempre tienen que caminar
De Philip a Dorchester, quince millas de distancia
Los vagabundos en nuestro país no tienen a dónde abrazar
Los histerismos hogareños reconfortan, no hay tiempo para hablar

Danny se recostó, miró hacia abajo y la llanura
El rey en su banco con una melena magnífica
Le pedí permiso para darle una nota
Asintió, sin moverse, solo se rascó la garganta

Es peligroso fraccionar como aquellos que viven en la calle
Danny era un gigante, sólido y resistente
Me permitió regalarle y garabatear esta canción
Sin ser draconiano, vivió tanto como pudo

Escrita por: Pete Townshend