English translation of La casa por la ventana by Joaquín Sabina. What does La casa por la ventana mean in english
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La casa por la ventana and many other song lyrics of Joaquín Sabina translated into english can be found in Translate Lyrics! What does La casa por la ventana mean in english?
Besides the lyric of the song La casa por la ventana in english, you will also find La casa por la ventana translated into Portuguese, French, German or other languages.
Besides the lyric of the song La casa por la ventana in english, you will also find La casa por la ventana translated into Portuguese, French, German or other languages.
La casa por la ventana by Joaquín Sabina (original lyric)
Quemaron todas las naves
Para iniciar una nueva vida
Pagaron cara la llave
Falsa de la tierra prometida.
Pero, en lugar del Caribe,
Con su bachata, con sus palmeras,
La Madre Patria recibe
Al inmigrante por peteneras.
Y no es bona Barcelona
Cuando la bolsa, primo, no sona
Y gana el cholo en Madrid
Menos que un perro sin pedigrí,
Y el mestizo, por Sevilla,
Va dando un cante por pesadillas,
Y, si dos vascos atracan
A un farmacéutico en Vigo
Jura el testigo que eran sudacas.
Y cada fin de semana
Tiran la casa por la ventana
Marcándose un agarrado
En El Café del Mercado
Que no es lo mismo que el Tropicana.
Se matan haciendo camas,
Vendiendo besos, lustrando suelos,
Si pica el hambre en la rama
La tortolica levanta el vuelo.
Y, en plazoletas y cines,
Por un jergón y plato de sopa,
Con una alfombra y un kleenex
Le sacan brillo al culo de Europa.
Y, el cuerpo de policía
Viene con leyes de extranjería
Y, al moro de la patera,
Le corta el rollo una patrullera,
Y, al mulato sabrosón,
Le dan en toda la inquisición,
Y, al gitaníto, la ola
Malaje y paya le quema
El tejadito de la chabola.
Y cada fin de semana
Tiran la casa por la ventana,
Chilabas y desayuno
De kifi con té moruno
Y escriben cartas a su sultana.
Y cada fin de semana
Con sus caderas dominicanas,
Compadre, una guaranchita,
Candombe, samba o rumbita...
¿O es que usted nunca estuvo en La Habana?
Y el coreano currela
Vendiendo lollos de plimavela,
Y en bares porno el paquete
De guineano cuesta un billete,
Y, al almacén del judío,
Van seis niñatos buscando lío,
Y al ingeniero polaco
Que vino huyendo del frío
Ya es mayordomo del tío del saco.
Y cada fin de semana
Tiran la casa por la ventana,
Y, mientras planchan un traje,
Su corazón de viaje
Se va cantando La Varsoviana.
Y cada fin de semana
Queda el negrito
Con la ucraniana,
Y bailan polka y pasito,
Y soplan vodka y mojito
Y vuelven trompas por la mañana.
La casa por la ventana by Joaquín Sabina (english translation)
They burned all the ships
To start a new life
They paid face the key
False from the promised land.
But, instead of the Caribbean,
With his bachata, with his palm trees,
The Motherland receives
To the immigrant for peteneras.
And it's not bona Barcelona
When the bag, cousin, does not sound
And the cholo wins in Madrid
Less than a dog without a pedigree,
And the mestizo, for Seville,
It is giving a cante for nightmares,
And, if two Basques dock
To a pharmacist in Vigo
The witness swears that they were sudacas.
And every weekend
They pull the house out the window
Marking a seized
In The Market Café
That is not the same as the Tropicana.
They kill themselves by making beds,
Selling kisses, polishing floors,
If hunger strikes on the branch
The tortolica takes off.
And, in squares and cinemas,
For a pallet and soup plate,
With a carpet and a kleenex
They polish Europe's ass.
And, the police body
It comes with immigration laws
And, to the Moor of the boat,
A patrol car cuts the roll,
And, to the mulato sabrosón,
They give him in all the inquisition,
And, to the gypsy, the wave
Malaje and paya burns
The little roof of the shack.
And every weekend
They throw the house out the window,
Chilabas and breakfast
Of kifi with Moorish tea
And they write letters to their sultana.
And every weekend
With his Dominican hips,
Compadre, a guaranchita,
Candombe, samba or rumbita ...
Or is it that you were never in Havana?
And the Korean Currela
Selling plimavela lollos,
And in porn bars the package
Guinean costs a ticket,
And, to the warehouse of the Jew,
Six boys go looking for trouble,
And the Polish engineer
That came fleeing from the cold
He is already the butler of the uncle of the sack.
And every weekend
They throw the house out the window,
And, while ironing a suit,
Your traveling heart
The Varsoviana is singing.
And every weekend
The little black man remains
With the Ukrainian,
And they dance polka and little step,
And they blow vodka and mojito
And they turn horns in the morning.
Only among all we can make this a better place :)
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