Lyrics and translation Cristóbal Jiménez - El Último Coplero

El Último Coplero

Soy el ultimo coplero
Del gran cajon araucano

La gente dice que ya no salen mas canta claros
Yo parrandie en la baisera
Baguan medio y mata e caña
De caicara matiyure
De caucagua caño bravo

Unos me dicen cuñao
Otros me dicen paisano
Me dibierto en la sabana jalando ganao poer tallo
Y me creo un potro en pelo
Y soy seguro enlazando
Yo soy un hombre tan criollo que naci en un vesindario
Yo trabaje en el pedral, en el frimo y mato e guamo
Cuando habia caballo bueno y se conseguia orejano
Que habia pasto real en bruto
Y era silvestre almarrano que se bebia el aguardiente
En la boca un nemesano
Que las capoteras eran cuero de res y venado
Contrapunteo en el arpa y me sobro ante el contrario
Soy como el gallo gallino que cuando no gano en tablo
Es por eso es que yo digo
Siempre cuando estoy cantando
Un coplero como yo si a nacido esta mamando
Yo no se porque el apure vota hombres tan vergatarios

En el pueblo de mentacal yo me la vivia cantando
Y comenzo a preocuparme la suerte de mis hermanos
Y me acorde de Bolivar
Y me senti avergonzado
Su palabra ahora es un mito al ver la patria sangrando
Seguimos siendo colonia...
Despues de 500 años
Su maestro Simon Rodriguez se lo vivia recordando
Que si un pueblo no se educa
Nada hacen con libertarlo
Porque volveria caer en manos de los extraños
Yo no me puedo explicar
Que existan venezolanos
Que permanecen tranquilos
Y estan mirando a sus lados
Que matan los estudiantes
Y el pueblo se muera hambriado
En el pais ahi millones para vivir derrochando
Tiene que tomar conciencia el general y el soldado
El obrero de la fabrica y todo el campesinado
Que no podemos seguir asi de brazos cruzados
Que los colosos del norte nos continuan asechando
Y parece que olvidamos
Que fuimos un pueblo bravo
Y en el nombre de Bolivar
Esas cadenas rompamos
Por que quieren entregarnos a los Norteamericanos.

The Last Minstrel

I am the last minstrel
From the great Araucanian drawer

People say that no more clear singers come out
I partied in the baisera
Half bagger and cane killer
Of caicara matiyure
From caucagua caño bravo

Some call me cuñao
Others call me paisano
I have fun in the savanna pulling ganado poer tallo
And I think I'm a bareback colt
And I'm sure roping
I am a man so Creole that I was born in a neighborhood
I worked in the pedral, in the frimo and mato e guamo
When there were good horses and you could get orejano
That there was real grass in bruto
And it was wild boar that drank liquor
In the mouth a nemesano
That the capoteras were leather of oxen and deer
I counterpoint in the harp and I have plenty before the contrary
I am like the rooster hen who when I don't win at tablo
That is why I say
Whenever I'm singing
A minstrel like me if it's born this is sucking
I don't know why the apure throws up such badass men

In the town of mentacal I used to live singing
And I began to worry about the fate of my brothers
And I remembered Bolivar
And I felt ashamed
His word is now a myth when seeing the bleeding homeland
We are still a colony...
After 500 years
His teacher Simon Rodriguez lived reminding him
That if a people are not educated
They do nothing to free them
Because it would fall back into the hands of strangers
I can't explain it
That there are Venezuelans
Who remain calm
And they are looking at their sides
That they kill the students
And the people starve to death
In the country there are millions to live wasting
The general and the soldier must become aware
The factory worker and all the peasants
That we can't continue like this with our arms crossed
That the northern colossi continue to stalk us
And it seems that we forget
That we were a brave people
And in the name of Bolivar
Let's break those chains
Because they want to hand us over to the North Americans.