Maula
No pises el cotorro
que no te puedo ver.
No ves que hasta vergüenza
me da ser tu mujer.
Yo quiero, pa' que sepas
tener siempre a mi lado
a un hombre bien templado,
no a un maula como vos.
A un hombre que se juegue,
si llega la ocasión,
la vida en una carta,
sin sentir emoción.
A un hombre que sea hombre
y sepa responder
y no llore cobarde,
igual que una mujer.
Maula
que ante el insulto callaste.
Maula
que cobarde te achicaste.
Maula
que sólo te creés valiente
cuando una noche de farra
te ves enfrente de una mujer.
La barra del boliche
borracha de pernod
mi nombre que es el tuyo
por el suelo arrastró
y vos que de una mesa
oíste aquella infamia
bajaste la cabeza,
cobarde, sin chistar.
Al verte tan compadre,
con tu aire de matón,
te juro por mi madre
te tengo compasión.
No vuelvas al cotorro,
porque mi corazón,
se ha hecho para un hombre
y vos no sos varón.
Maula
Don't step on the parrot
I can't see you.
Can't you see that it's even embarrassing
to be your woman?
I want you to know
that I always want by my side
a well-built man,
not a loser like you.
A man who will risk it all,
if the occasion arises,
put his life on the line,
without feeling any emotion.
A man who is a man
and knows how to stand up
and doesn't cry like a coward,
just like a woman.
Loser
who stayed silent in the face of insult.
Loser
who cowardly backed down.
Loser
who only thinks you're brave
when one night out drinking
you find yourself in front of a woman.
The crowd at the bar
drunk on pernod
dragged my name, which is yours,
through the mud
and you, from a table,
heard that slander
you hung your head,
cowardly, without a word.
Seeing you so pathetic,
with your tough guy act,
I swear on my mother
I feel sorry for you.
Don't come back to the parrot,
because my heart
is made for a man
and you're not a man.