English translation of El viejo Matías by Víctor Heredia. What does El viejo Matías mean in english
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HOME > VíCTOR HEREDIA > EL VIEJO MATíAS in ENGLISH
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El viejo Matías by Víctor Heredia (original lyric)




La lluvia y el viento eran dos hermanos
corriendo furiosos por el terraplén
y en un banco oscuro, mojado y mugriento,
él se acomodaba su uniforme gris.
El viejo Matías duerme en cualquier parte,
un fantasma errante le toca la piel,
pero cuando llueve sus despojos buscan
la estación de chapas de Paso del Rey.
Es cuco de niños y de no tan niños
su figura triste cruzando el andén,
porque nadie ha visto sus ojos cansados
la cruz del olvido temblando en sus pies.
A veces murmura cosas incoherentes,
habla de la guerra, imita al cañón,
y otras veces pone en sus ojos un niño
y acuna en sus brazos su bolso marrón.
Cuando llegan los trenes repletos de obreros
se pone contento, brilla su mirar,
Gorrión de la tarde, quiere hablar con todos,
y después se queda solo en el andén.
Se queda mirando las vías vacías,
la luz que se pierde del tren que pasó,
y después se aleja murmurando cosas,
el viejo Matías, ogro del lugar.
La lluvia y el viento eran dos hermanos
corriendo furiosos por el terraplén
y en un banco oscuro, mojado y mugriento,
él se acomodaba su uniforma gris.

El viejo Matías by Víctor Heredia (english translation)



The rain and the wind were two brothers
running furious down the embankment
and on a dark, wet and grimy bench,
he was adjusting his gray uniform.
Old Matias sleeps anywhere,
a wandering ghost touches his skin,
but when it rains their spoils look
the station of plates of Step of the King.
It is cute of children and not so children
his sad figure crossing the platform,
because nobody has seen his eyes tired
the cross of oblivion trembling on his feet.
Sometimes he mumbles incoherent things,
talk about war, imitate the cannon,
and other times he puts a child in his eyes
and cradles her brown bag in her arms.
When trains arrive full of workers
he is happy, his look shines,
Sparrow in the afternoon, wants to talk to everyone,
and then he is alone on the platform.
He stares at empty roads,
the light that is lost from the train that passed,
and then he goes away muttering things,
Old Matias, ogre of the place.
The rain and the wind were two brothers
running furious down the embankment
and on a dark, wet and grimy bench,
he was adjusting his gray uniform.




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