English translation of El papalote by Silvio Rodríguez. What does El papalote mean in english
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HOME > SILVIO RODRíGUEZ > EL PAPALOTE in ENGLISH
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El papalote by Silvio Rodríguez (original lyric)



Será por tu vivienda
Hecha de ruinas y de misterios
Porque rompías la roca
Para ganarte un par de medios.

O por tus tira piedras
Los más famosos de la loma
Con la mejor horqueta
De la guayaba y duras gomas.

Será por todo esto
Que mi memoria se empina a ratos
Como tus papalotes
Los invencibles, los más baratos.

Y te levanta el peso
Narciso el mocho para ponerte
Junto a los elegidos
Los que no caben en la muerte.

Coro
El papalote cae, cae, cae, cae, cae
El papalote cae, cae, cae, cae, cae
Se va bolina la imaginación
Buena cuchilla no pico.

Una vez de tus manos
Un coronel salio brillando
Que pájaro perfecto
Cuantos colores, que lindo canto.

Ninguno de nosotros
Iba a volarlo ya se sabia
Era un encargo caro
Del que mandaba, del que tenía.

Llevabas en el puño
Aquel dinero de la tristeza
Dinero de aguardiente
Del sol de cuba de la cerveza

Y te seguimos todos
A celebrarlo sucios y locos
Para ti carta oro
Y caramelos para nosotros

Coro
El papalote cae, cae, cae, cae, cae
El papalote cae, cae, cae, cae, cae
Se va bolina la imaginación
Buena cuchilla no pico

La gente te chiflaba
Cuando en la tarde subías borracho
Tú contestabas piedras
Y maldiciones a tus muchachos

Eras el personaje
De los trajines de tu pueblo
Eras para la gracia
Eras un viejo, eras negro.

Una noche respeto
Bajo y te puso bella corona
Respeto de mortales
Que muerto al fin te hizo persona

Pobre del que pensó
Pobre de toda aquella gente
Que el día más importante
De tu existencia fue el de tu muerte

Coro
El papalote cae, cae, cae, cae, cae
El papalote cae, cae, cae, cae, cae
Se va bolina la imaginación
Buena cuchilla no pico.

El papalote by Silvio Rodríguez (english translation)



It will be for your home
Made of ruins and mysteries
Because you broke the rock
To win a couple of media.

Or for your throw stones
The most famous of the hill
With the best fork
Of the guava and hard rubber.

It will be for all this
That my memory goes up at times
Like your kites
The invincible, the cheapest.

And it lifts the weight
Narciso the mocho to wear
Together with the elect
Those that do not fit in death.

Chorus
The kite falls, falls, falls, falls, falls
The kite falls, falls, falls, falls, falls
It goes bolina the imagination
Good blade not peak.

Once from your hands
A colonel came out shining
What a perfect bird
How many colors, how nice singing.

None of us
I was going to blow it, you know
It was an expensive commission
The one who commanded, the one who had.

You were in your fist
That money of sadness
Brandy money
From the sun of Cuba from beer

And we follow you all
To celebrate it dirty and crazy
For you gold letter
And candy for us

Chorus
The kite falls, falls, falls, falls, falls
The kite falls, falls, falls, falls, falls
It goes bolina the imagination
Good blade not peak

People were crazy about you
When in the afternoon you went up drunk
You answered stones
And curses your boys

You were the character
Of the trajines of your town
You were for grace
You were an old man, you were black.

One night respect
Low and put you beautiful crown
Respect for mortals
That dead at last made you a person

Poor than he thought
Poor of all those people
That the most important day
Of your existence was that of your death

Chorus
The kite falls, falls, falls, falls, falls
The kite falls, falls, falls, falls, falls
It goes bolina the imagination
Good blade not peak.




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