Corrido de Zenon,el - Joan Sebastian traduction en anglais

Corrido de Zenon,el

Les voy a contar señores, un corrido que es real
Esto sucedió en Juliantla del antiguo mineral
El primer día de Febrero, un miércoles muy temprano,
Con tres balazos certeros, murió Zenón Campuzano
Dicen que Zenón mataba, nomás de puro placer
Y a más de 3 en el pueblo, ya los había hecho correr

Lo tuvieron en la cárcel, le hicieron cargos de robo
Toritos para el menudo, marranitas para el adobo
Había peleado con Pedro, Adrián, Pancho y Juvenal
Pero les temblaba el pulso, y no le pudieron dar
Tenía muchos enemigos, hicieron la coperacha
Decían todos sus amigos, lo mataron a la gacha

Dicen que fue Filiberto el que sirvió de padrino
A mi así me la corrieron, no crean que soy adivino
Ya me voy no me despido, no es fácil pelar la tuna
Este corrido se aguata, el de Campuzano Luna
Pagaron sus enemigos, hicieron la coperacha
Decían todos sus amigos, lo mataron a la gacha
Ya me voy no me despido, y este verso es de pilón
Aquí termino el corrido, de aquel horrendo Zenón

Zenon's Corrido

My lady, I shall narrate a tale, a song of truth and might
In Juliantla's ancient mine, it all took place one night
On February's first, a Wednesday morn, as rosy dawn did break
With three shots swift and true, Zenón Campuzano's life they took
They say Zenón was a killer, who sought pleasure in the game
And more than three within the town, his victims bore his name

In prison he was held, accused of theft, a heinous crime
But bulls he stole for menudo, and pigs for stews sublime
With Pedro, Adrián, Pancho, and Juvenal, he'd fought and brawled
But their hands shook with fear, their courage failed, their spirits palled
He had many foes, they plotted and they paid, a wicked scheme
His friends whispered in despair, "They've killed him, it would seem"

Filiberto, so they say, played godfather to this deed
That's how the story reached my ears, though truth I cannot heed
So now I bid you fare thee well, my task is done, my song is sung
This tale of Campuzano Luna, on your heart may it be hung
His enemies paid the price, a wicked plot they planned
His friends whispered in despair, "They've killed him, it would seem"
I leave you now, but heed my words, this verse is a gentle plea
Here ends the song of Zenón, a tale of horror, dark and grim