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HOME >
SILVIO RODRíGUEZ
> DISCURSO FúNEBRE in ENGLISH
Discurso fúnebre by Silvio Rodríguez (original lyrics)
Ayer mataron a un lobo en la puerta de mi casa
con la cabeza vencida sobre la acera soñaba
observaba la bodega donde peleaba y dormía
con la pupila vidriosa mira pasar el día
y los niños de su mundo hablaban en voz muy baja
de su mirada.
Para el resto de la tierra, allí había un perro muerto
un perro que en unas horas estaría descompuesto
había que limpiar la acera de aquella mancha oscura,
para el resto de la tierra un perro muerto es basura,
pero los niños jugaban y volvían a su lado
siempre callados.
Lobo yo si te recuerdo echado al camino
con el sol curándote el lomo desecho
de andar a la noche batallando con tus enemigos.
Lobo yo si te recuerdo, yo también sabía
donde, como y cuando dormías tu sueño.
para esos asuntos no he crecido mucho todavía.
Como no iba a recordarte si estás ahí desde mi niñez
en un paisaje diferente pero igual, si a todos nos paso una vez.
Como no iba a recordarte si tu misterio es más feliz
que muchas cosas que tenemos que contar a costa de una cicatriz,
como de un hierro caliente
que deja la memoria ardiente
sin la nobleza de tu muerte
y sin un peso, con más suerte
que no sea la de maldecir.
Discurso fúnebre by Silvio Rodríguez (Translation in english)
Yesterday they killed a wolf in the door of my house with his head defeated on the sidewalk he dreamed He watched the winery where he fought and slept with glassy pupil watch the day go by and the children of his world spoke in a very low voice of his look. For the rest of the earth, there? there was a dead dog a dog that in a few hours would be decomposed there was to clean the sidewalk from that dark spot, for the rest of the earth a dead dog is garbage, but the children played and came back to their side always silent. Wolf, if I remember you lying on the road with the sun curl ndote the loin scrap to walk to the night battling with your enemies. Wolf, if I remember you, I also knew where, how and when you sleep your dream. for those matters I have not grown much yet. How would I not remind you if you're there? since my childhood in a different landscape but the same, if we all passed once. How I was not going to remind you if your mystery is happier that many things that we have to count at the cost of a scar, like a hot iron that leaves burning memory without the nobility of your death and without a peso, with more luck other than to curse.
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