English translation of Violetas Para Violeta by Joaquín Sabina. What does Violetas Para Violeta mean in english
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Violetas Para Violeta by Joaquín Sabina (original lyric)



La página de sucesos
del Mercurio y La Estafeta,
entre dietas para obesos,
chismes y falsos profetas,
confirmaba que sin besos
se marchitan las violetas.

Maldigo del alto cielo
que nos expropió su canto,
sus décimas, su pañuelo,
su quinchamalí, su llanto,
viola de chicha y pomelo,
cacerolas del espanto.

Habráse visto insolencia,
cinismo y alevosía,
contaminan la decencia,
secuestran la fantasía,
cuando clama la inocencia
llaman a la policía.

Lo dijo Violeta Parra,
hermana de Nicanor,
por suerte tengo guitarra
y sin presumir de voz,
si me invitan a una farra
cuenten con mi corazón.

Volaron desde Chicago
unos gringos con corbata
y en una suite de Santiago,
sin pisar Chuquicamata,
defecaron en mi pago,
sobraban las serenatas.

Más sola que una maleta
olvidada en la Gran Vía,
desde que se fue Violeta
enlutando la poesía,
se ensañan con los poetas
las faltas de ortografía.

La cuequita de mi Chile,
los listos de Guasingtón,
la marchitan con fusiles
que acribillan la razón,
malaya sean los desfiles
y el cristo que los fundó.

Los pobres no somos ricos
ni el cobre es más que la greda,
la libertad cierra el pico
desde que hay toque de queda,
pregúntale a los milicos
qué hicieron en La Moneda.

Violetas Para Violeta by Joaquín Sabina (english translation)



The event page
of Mercury and La Estafeta,
between diets for obese,
gossip and false prophets,
confirmed that without kisses
the violets wither.

I curse from the high heaven
that expropriated us his song,
his tenths, his handkerchief,
his quinchamalí, his crying,
viola of chicha and grapefruit,
panics of fright.

Insolence will have been seen,
cynicism and treachery,
they pollute decency,
kidnap the fantasy,
when innocence cries
They call the police.

Violeta Parra said it,
sister of Nicanor,
luckily I have a guitar
and without boasting of voice,
if you invite me to a party
count on my heart

They flew from Chicago
some gringos with a tie
and in a suite in Santiago,
without stepping on Chuquicamata,
defecated in my payment,
There were no serenades.

More alone than a suitcase
forgotten in the Gran Vía,
since Violeta left
mourning poetry,
they get angry with poets
the misspellings.

The mouth of my Chile,
the smart ones from Guasington,
they wither with rifles
that riddled the reason,
Malaysian are the parades
and the Christ who founded them.

The poor are not rich
nor copper is more than clay,
freedom closes the peak
since there is a curfew,
ask the military
what they did in La Moneda.




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