Lyrics and translation Vicente Fernández - El Derrotado

El Derrotado

Que soy un derrotado
Que voy por este mundo
Causando sentimiento del que me ve vivir
Que sufro por tu ausencia
Que lloro por tus besos
Eso es lo que me han dicho
Que cuentas tu de mi
Que vivo en las cantinas
Que duermo donde quiera
Total que soy un paria que pronto va morir
Y yo que soy el mismo
Que se arrullo en tus brazos
Recibo las noticias y no se que decir
Porque siempre la mujer
Cuando deja de querer nos desprecia y nos maldice
Porque no sabe aguantar
Y si tuvo que llorar, porque diablos no lo dice
Ya ves yo no reniego
De todos tus insultos
Lo que dijo el poeta te voy a repetir
Existen aves que cruzan el pantano y no se manchan
Y tu sabes mujer
Que mi plumaje es de esos
Porque siempre la mujer
Cuando deja de querer nos desprecia y nos maldice
Porque no sabe aguantar
Y si tuvo que llorar, porque diablos no lo dice
Ya ves yo no reniego
De todos tus insultos
Lo que dijo el poeta te voy a repetir
Existen aves que cruzan el pantano y no se manchan
Y tu sabes mujer
Que mi plumaje es de esos

The Defeated One

They say that I'm a loser,
That I wander through this world,
Causing pity in the eyes of those who see me.
That I'm suffering from your absence,
That I cry for your kisses,
That's what they have told me,
Those things you say about me.
They say that I live in bars,
That I sleep wherever I can find.
That I'm a pariah who will soon die.
But I am the same man,
Who once found solace in your arms.
I receive this news and I don't know what to say,
Because women, when they stop loving,
They scorn and curse us.
They can't endure,
And if they had to cry, why the devil don't they say so?
As for me, I won't deny,
Any of your insults.
I'll repeat what the poet said:
There are birds that cross the swamp and don't get stained.
And you know, my love,
That my plumage is like that.
Because women, when they stop loving,
They scorn and curse us.
They can't endure,
And if they had to cry, why the devil don't they say so?
As for me, I won't deny
Any of your insults.
I'll repeat what the poet said:
There are birds that cross the swamp and don't get stained.
And you know, my love,
That my plumage is like that.