Lyrics and translation Zoo - Corbelles

Corbelles

Estic buscant tantes respostes, que oblide les preguntes que m′he fet
Guanyant en impotència al ritme que perc drets
Pensant més en desitjos que en fets, plorant de ràbia
Volent fer paredons de les parets

Tombar el mur, obrir la gàbia, eixir del pou
Rega la vida amb nova savia l'home nou, Hugo viu
Al rostre del seu poble que diu "D′ací no passen"
Defenen el seu pa i les seues cases

I monta un numeret el amo de la empresa
Que plora si li expropien la riquessa
Això ja noés com era, han trobat la manera
Han olorat la sang, i ara té fam la fera

Les lleis ja no son lleis si sempre fallen
El rei ja no és el rei si el cap li tallen
Vinguen les armes als meus, plouen les pedres
El poble salva al poble d'eixos putos merdes

I saludant al nou segle, trenquen el guió i les regles
I una cosa: si veniu amb colps d'Estat... com
A Cuba, com Vietnam: Caureu sense pietat!

Tempestes vénen del sud, sonen corbelles que tallen la boira
I creix una flor al mur, vol ser futur, és present, és memòria
Tempestes vénen del sud, sonen corbelles que tallen la boira
I creix una flor al mur, vol ser futur, és present, és memòria

Sents com s′esmolen les metàfores
I el so de la guillotina talla l′aire
Destinats a no tindre dret a guanyar mai
Han eixit rebotaets i el nord comença a tremolar

Guevara viu com Durruti en les paraules d'Emma Goldman
El sud somriu conscient de la seua força
L′Escola de Chicago no guia els nostres passos
Portem idees i energia a cabassos

Exprópiese, colectivízese, que el poble mane
Més enllà de ministres i presidents
Apúrense, que senten la por a la pell
Recordem els nostres morts mentre afilem el ganivet

Cochabamba, Chiapas, Haymarket
Venes obertes, corbelles esmolaes
Tenim els referents, els exemples
La selva, la defenem a maxetaes

Nuestra casa no es el patio de los gringos
Poco a poco expulsamos al imperio
I una idea que deuríem no oblidar:
Contra tota autoritat, barrà de ferro al cap!

Tempestes vénen del sud, sonen corbelles que tallen la boira
I creix una flor al mur, vol ser futur, és present, és memòria
Tempestes vénen del sud, sonen corbelles que tallen la boira
I creix una flor al mur, vol ser futur, és present, és memòria

I no seran mai més el nostre magatzem
La dignitat no es compra, el sol no es ven
Que no van a permetre que els exploten
Ni soportar el pes de noves botes

Capitalisme és barbàrie han aprés que
La història s'escriu amb la sang de qui perd, Sí
Que ara son seus el café, el blat i el sucre
Que en esta Europa muerte huele a azufre

Tempestes vénen del sud
Sonen corbelles que tallen la boira
Tempestes vénen del sud
I creix una flor al mur, sonen corbelles

Tempestes vénen del sud, sonen corbelles que tallen la boira
I creix una flor al mur, vol ser futur, és present, és memòria
Tempestes vénen del sud, sonen corbelles que tallen la boira
I creix una flor al mur, vol ser futur, és present, és memòria

Corbelles

I'm looking for so many answers that I forget the questions I've asked myself
Gaining in impotence at the rate at which I lose rights
Thinking more about desires than facts, crying with rage
Wanting to make walls out of walls

To tear down the wall, to open the cage, to get out of the well
The new man waters life with new sap, Hugo lives
In the face of his people who say "No one passes here"
Defending their bread and their houses

And the owner of the company puts on a little show
Who cries if his wealth is expropriated
This is not like it used to be, they have found the way
They have smelled blood, and now the beast is hungry

Laws are no longer laws if they always fail
The king is no longer the king if they cut off his head
Come weapons to mine, stones rain down
The people save the people from those fucking bastards

And greeting the new century, they break the script and the rules
And one thing: if you come with coups d'état... like
In Cuba, like Vietnam: You will fall without mercy!

Storms come from the south, cowbells ring that cut through the fog
And a flower grows on the wall, it wants to be the future, it is present, it is memory
Storms come from the south, cowbells ring that cut through the fog
And a flower grows on the wall, it wants to be the future, it is present, it is memory

You feel how metaphors shake
And the sound of the guillotine cuts through the air
Destined to never have the right to win
They have come out rebelling and the north begins to tremble

Guevara lives like Durruti in Emma Goldman's words
The south smiles, aware of its strength
The Chicago School does not guide our steps
We carry ideas and energy in baskets

Expropriate, collectivize, let the people manage
Beyond ministers and presidents
Hurry, they feel the fear on their skin
We remember our dead while we sharpen the knife

Cochabamba, Chiapas, Haymarket
Open veins, sharpened cowbells
We have the references, the examples
The jungle, we defend it with machetes

Our house is not the gringos' backyard
Little by little we expel the empire
And an idea that we should not forget:
Against all authority, an iron bar to the head!

Storms come from the south, cowbells ring that cut through the fog
And a flower grows on the wall, it wants to be the future, it is present, it is memory
Storms come from the south, cowbells ring that cut through the fog
And a flower grows on the wall, it wants to be the future, it is present, it is memory

And they will never again be our warehouse
Dignity is not bought, the sun is not sold
That they will not allow themselves to be exploited
Nor bear the weight of new boots

Capitalism is barbarism they have learned that
History is written with the blood of the loser, Yes
That now coffee, wheat and sugar are theirs
That in this dead Europe it smells of sulfur

Storms come from the south
Cowbells ring that cut through the fog
Storms come from the south
And a flower grows on the wall, cowbells ring

Storms come from the south, cowbells ring that cut through the fog
And a flower grows on the wall, it wants to be the future, it is present, it is memory
Storms come from the south, cowbells ring that cut through the fog
And a flower grows on the wall, it wants to be the future, it is present, it is memory