Текст и перевод песни Herman Medrano - El Problema

El Problema

El problema, el problema xe un problema
Che dopo xe un problema che te fa stare mae, sempre queo

Triboeo, doeori fra el bunigoeo e el bigoeo
Pi mae de co bato eà testa forte so un spigoeo
E co poco mi me incasso, so ciapà da un spasmo
Me incapo co parlo e in pi so mato pi de Erasmo
Go l'acido e el torsego che me vien su dal stomego
Bevo e me infumego, el di dopo rumego
Acido muriatico so el stomego, xe caldo e so onfego
Ma stago qua so el sotoportego
L'ariéta xe fina, stago fora anca in spadina
Pare che me passa ma i pensieri me sassina
Me altero, ciàciaro, come uno tangaro
Esaspero, esagero, do minuti e so al macero
E de note vedo fighe, man co e vessighe
Assà là inpissà e co me svejo eà fa e righe
No xe pi un caso se ogni tanto sfaso, rivo che so raso
E a volte no rincaso, casco e bato el naso
E doman? Si, fasso un fià de straordinari
E co vegno fora 4 spriss col Campari
Stress da lavoro e el conubio sensa dubio xe el preludio
A situassion che no te afronti sensa studio

El problema xe che go un problema che me crea problemi
Che soeo se ghe penso fa saltare tuti i schemi
Stago tento e me scolto pa capire un pochetin
Pi che scolto e pi capisso che el problema vien da mi
Co xe note mi lo so che come senpre riva el beo
El problema xe un problema che me bate sol sarveo
Pi che scolto sto problema sto problema torna indrio
Vago inserca de capire: "Il problema sono io"?

Sarà, ma go xa visto tuto, pare scrito
Meto a testa sul cussin e fisso el soito sofito
Stago sito, vedo co un sforso
Pochi canbiamenti e cussì lenti che gnanca me n'incorxo
Massa spesso teso e dopo resto steso, meso leso
Vodo come un reso peso el poco tenpo speso
So projeti pi concreti e pi afeti
Manco conceti, pi raporti, pi o manco streti
Eò so che no ghe spero el xe un pensiero nero passejero
Co i ga fato e regoe, mi dove casso jero?
Serco vie de scanpo, robe che no guanto (no e ciàpo)
E vedo che e gaeja tra un goto e chealtro
Serte noti no xe magiche, vago torno
No dormo, me tormento finché xe jorno
Serte noti me despoio deà me vita da bastardo
Eà buto sora el leto, e là eà vardo
Sfide? Perse cuasi tute, fa gnente
Seto quante volte me so xa catà àe strete
E resta robe intime, tante resta fisime
Camino sol bordo, te prego no sta spinxeme

El problema xe che go un problema che me crea problemi
Che soeo se ghe penso fa saltare tuti i schemi
Stago tento e me scolto pa capire un pochetin
Pi che scolto e pi capisso che el problema vien da mi
Co xe note mi lo so che come senpre riva el beo
El problema xe un problema che me bate sol sarveo
Pi che scolto sto problema sto problema torna indrio
Vago inserca de capire: "il problema sono io"?

Calcossa qua no va, calcossa no va ben
Calcossa de inportante ma no so cossa che xe
Eà soeussion se cata, fin qua no se sballia
Ma dee volte eà xe ben sconta e par questo se se ràbia
Xe note, so in vestallia xo in cusina a far café
Ae sié el can che sbaja me sveja e salto in pié
Naltra note de pensieri cativi, de giri
Torno eà toea e de sospiri, più i papiri
Carte scrite e scanceae, pi che scrivo e pi fa mae
Ma devo scaricare eà tension de ste jiornae
Coeori da imajini, paroe che te inpajini
Ti che te te esamini distante dai alibi
Devo scuse a dee tose pa dee colpe
Co quéo che go fato sento el caldo so e ciope
Dago pi de un grassie ai me veci pa eà pasiensa
Me pare mena eà testa e te ghe lesi l'inpotensa
Doeorosissimo, eò so benissimo, ris-cio co insisto
Co i me ritmi e no i me capisse, no!
Par ogni alto un caeo, miga sieste co el poncho
Come na strassa so un canton da soeo me dissocio
Serco soeo eà conossensa de mi un fià de pì
Mi riapropio dea me vita no de cuèa che te fe ti
Go milioni de pensieri ogni dì, da ani va cussì
Da ani xe cussì e so cussì

El problema xe che go un problema che me crea problemi
Che soeo se ghe penso fa saltare tuti i schemi
Stago tento e me scolto pa capire un pochetin
Pi che scolto e pi capisso che el problema vien da mi
Co xe note mi lo so che come senpre riva el beo
El problema xe un problema che me bate sol sarveo
Pi che scolto sto problema sto problema torna indrio
Vago inserca de capire: "il problema sono io"?

El problema xe che go un problema che me crea problemi
Che soeo se ghe penso fa saltare tuti i schemi
Stago tento e me scolto pa capire un pochetin
Pi che scolto e pi capisso che el problema vien da mi
Co xe note mi lo so che come senpre riva el beo
El problema xe un problema che me bate sol sarveo
Pi che scolto sto problema sto problema torna indrio
Vago inserca de capire: "Il problema sono io"?

No, el beo xe che sarìa beo moeare de contarsea, dio
Dee volte sarìa beo anca saver riconossere che gavemo dee rogne dentro
Essere onesti no? Essere onesti co nialtri stessi, zio ken

The Problem

The problem, the problem, babe, is a problem
Which then is a problem that makes you feel bad, always the same

I fret, pains between the good and the bad
Worse than when I hit my hard head on a corner
And with little I get pissed off, I'm taken by a spasm
I get stuck when I talk and the more crazy I am than Erasmus
I have the acid and the twisting that comes up from my stomach
I drink and I smoke, the day after I ruminate
Hydrochloric acid is my stomach, it's hot and I'm swollen
But I'm here under the porch
The air is thin, I'm outside even in the drizzle
It seems to pass but the thoughts kill me
I alter, I chatter, like a shaman
I exasperate, I exaggerate, two minutes and I'm at the butcher
And at night I see figs, hands with blisters
Enough to piss off and when I wake up it makes lines
It's no longer a case if every now and then I break down, I arrive shaved
And sometimes I don't give up, I fall and hit my nose
And tomorrow? Yes, I'll do some overtime
And when I get out 4 spritzes with Campari
Work stress and the combination without a doubt is the prelude
To situations that you don't face without studying

The problem is that I have a problem that creates problems for me
That just thinking about it makes all the patterns jump
I'm trying and listening to myself to understand a little
The more I listen, the more I understand that the problem comes from me
When it's night I know that as always the good comes
The problem is a problem that beats me only on the brain
The more I listen to this problem, this problem comes back
I go in search of understanding: "Am I the problem"?

Maybe, but I've already seen everything, it seems written
I put my head on the pillow and stare at the usual ceiling
I'm still, I see with an effort
Few changes and so slow that I don't even notice them
Too often tense and then I remain lying down, injured
Empty like a rendered weight the little time spent
More concrete and affective projects
Lack of concepts, more reports, more or less strict
I know that there is no hope, it is a fleeting black thought
When they made the rules, where was I?
I'm looking for escape routes, things I don't want (I don't take)
And I see that happiness is between one glass and another
Certain nights are not magical, I go back
I don't sleep, I torment myself until it's day
Some nights I strip myself of my bastard life
I throw it on the bed, and there I look at it
Challenges? Lost almost all of them, do nothing
I know how many times I've found myself on the streets
And intimate things remain, many remain firm
I walk on the edge, please don't push me

The problem is that I have a problem that creates problems for me
That just thinking about it makes all the patterns jump
I'm trying and listening to myself to understand a little
The more I listen, the more I understand that the problem comes from me
When it's night I know that as always the good comes
The problem is a problem that beats me only on the brain
The more I listen to this problem, this problem comes back
I go in search of understanding: "Am I the problem"?

Something's wrong here, something's wrong
Something important but I don't know what it is
The solution is found, so far you are not wrong
But sometimes it is well hidden and that's why we get angry
It's night, I'm in my underwear down in the kitchen making coffee
At six the dog barking wakes me up and I jump to my feet
Another night of bad thoughts, of twists and turns
I go back to coughing and sighing, plus the paperwork
Written and discarded cards, the more I write the worse it gets
But I have to release the tension of these days
Hearts from images, words that page you
You who examine yourself away from alibis
I owe apologies to some girls for some faults
With what I've done I feel the heat on my cheeks
I give more than a thank you to my old folks for their patience
My father shakes his head and you read impotence
Very painful, I know very well, I risk when I insist
With my rhythms and they don't understand me, no!
For every high there is a low, no siestas with the poncho
Like a tear on a corner, I dissociate myself alone
I seek only the knowledge of myself a little more
I take back my life, not the one you make
I have millions of thoughts every day, it's been like this for years
It's been like this for years and I'm like this

The problem is that I have a problem that creates problems for me
That just thinking about it makes all the patterns jump
I'm trying and listening to myself to understand a little
The more I listen, the more I understand that the problem comes from me
When it's night I know that as always the good comes
The problem is a problem that beats me only on the brain
The more I listen to this problem, this problem comes back
I go in search of understanding: "Am I the problem"?

The problem is that I have a problem that creates problems for me
That just thinking about it makes all the patterns jump
I'm trying and listening to myself to understand a little
The more I listen, the more I understand that the problem comes from me
When it's night I know that as always the good comes
The problem is a problem that beats me only on the brain
The more I listen to this problem, this problem comes back
I go in search of understanding: "Am I the problem"?

No, the good thing is that it would be good to stop telling each other, God
Sometimes it would be good to even know how to recognize that we have some shit inside
Be honest, right? Be honest with ourselves, Uncle Ken