Текст и перевод песни Carlos Gardel - Farabute

Farabute

Farabute ilusionado por la mersa de magnates
Que enfarolan su presencia con suntuosa precisión
No manyás, pobre franela, que aquél que nació en un catre
A vivir modestamente la suerte lo condenó

Sos la escoria remanyada que esgunfiás con tu presencia
De chitrulo sin carpeta, residuo del arrabal
Tus hazañas de malevo al cuaderno de la ausencia
Con el lápiz del recuerdo te las voy a enumerar

Clandestino de carreras
A ratitos quinielero
Así te hacés las chirolas
Con que a veces te empilchás (¡atorrante!)
En tu casa todo el año
A la hora del puchero (¡pelandrún!)
Enyantás de prepotencia
Lo que nunca te ganás

Deschavate, farabute, no naciste pa' cafishio
Al laburo dedicate que allí está tu salvación
Recordá la viejecita que hace un mes en el hospicio
Al morir, tus hermanitas suplicando señaló

Ya que en su triste existencia como trapo la has tratado
Ni un halago tan siquiera le supiste demostrar
Hoy tenés frente a la vida la misión que te ha encargado
Que la santa desde el cielo te sabrá recompensar

Clandestino de carreras
A ratitos quinielero
Así te hacés las chirolas
Con que a veces te empilchás (¡atorrante, andá a trabajar!)
En tu casa todo el año
A la hora del puchero (¡pelandrún, sinvergüenza!)
Enyantás de prepotencia
Lo que nunca te ganás

Farabute

Farabute, you're a dreamer, living a lie of luxury
With your fancy facade, you're a puppet in the shadows
You're nothing but a poor fool, born to a life of poverty
Your fate was sealed, condemned to a life of humble mediocrity

You're the scum of the earth, a disgrace to your fellow man
A lowlife without a clue, a product of the streets
Your history of crime and villainy, let me enumerate
I'll use the pencil of memory to jot down your shameful deeds

A petty gambler, chasing the odds
A lottery hustler, hoping for a stroke of luck
That's how you earn your meager living
Dressing up in finery, like a cheap impostor (you lowlife!)
A burden on your family
At the dinner table (you good-for-nothing!)
You strut around with arrogance
Claiming what you never deserved

Face it, Farabute, you're no good as a pimp
Get yourself a decent job, that's where you belong
Remember your old mother, who died in the hospice a month ago
On her deathbed, she begged for your love, your sisters wept

You treated her like dirt, throughout her sad existence
Not a single kind word, not a shred of compassion
Now you face a higher calling, a mission from the heavens
Your sainted mother will watch over you, and bless your redemption

A petty gambler, chasing the odds
A lottery hustler, hoping for a stroke of luck
That's how you earn your meager living
Dressing up in finery, like a cheap impostor (you lowlife, get a job!)
A burden on your family
At the dinner table (you good-for-nothing, worthless wretch!)
You strut around with arrogance
Claiming what you never deserved