Текст и перевод песни Antonio Tarragó Ros - El Cielo del Albañil

El Cielo del Albañil

Allá cerquita del cielo
Entre los andamios
Sentado como un tropero
Le está mateando

Igual como si estuviera
En medio del campo
Debajo de alguna sombra
Junto a un remanso

Hablando pocas palabras
Lo he visto a Vargas
Quedarse así de cuclillas
Mirando lejos
Cercado entre el hormigón
No encuentra su cielo aquí
De balde lo está buscando
Entre tanto gris

En la radio sin querer
Como un duende el acordeón
Estirando un chamamé
Le estremece el corazón
Y hasta le parece angá
Que si suelta un sapukai
Los peones le han de oir
En la estancia el paraisal

Al verlo así me parece
Que anda tropeando
Con su compadre lalanda
Como hace tanto

Qué pena me da mirarlo
Entre los andamios
Con todo ese cielo adentro
Como sangrando

Detrás del vuelo aterido
De una paloma
Se achican sus ojos negros
Mirando lejos

Cercado entre el hormigón
El cielo del albañil
Manchado de arena y cal
Se termina allí

Algún día volverá
Le gustaba ser peón
No se halla por acá
Ya ha de haber una ocasión
Mientras tanto al escuchar
Por la radio un chamamé
Él remonta un sapukai
Es su modo de volver.

The Mason's Heaven

Up there close to the sky
Amongst the scaffolding
Sitting like a gaucho
He is drinking mate

Just as if he were
In the middle of the countryside
Beneath some shade
Next to a backwater

Speaking few words
I saw Vargas
Crouch down like this
Staring into the distance
Surrounded by concrete
He can't find his heaven here
He's searching for it in vain
Amongst so much grayness

On the radio, without any intent
The accordion, like a mischievous sprite
Stretching out a chamamé
It makes his heart tremble
And it even seems to him
That if he lets out a sapukai
The peons will hear him
In the estancia of Paraisal

When I see him like this, it seems to me
That he is cattle-herding
With his comrade Lalanda
Like he did long ago

It saddens me to look at him
Amongst the scaffolding
With all of that sky inside,
As if bleeding

Behind the frightened flight
Of a dove
His dark eyes grow small
As he stares into the distance

Surrounded by concrete
The mason's heaven
Stained with sand and lime
Ends there

One day he will return
He liked to be a peon
He is not happy here
There must already be an opportunity
Meanwhile, upon hearing
A chamamé on the radio
He lets out a sapukai
It is his way of returning