Текст и перевод песни Oscar Chavez - La Historia Del Hombre Muerto

La Historia Del Hombre Muerto

Si quieren saber la historia
La historia del hombre muerto
No la busque en las revistas
Y sí, en sus pensamientos

Las revistas que publican
La historia del hombre del muerto
Escriben lo que les dicen
Y olvidan sus pensamientos

Unas dicen que era Juan
Y otras, que era Roberto
Dicen que tenia barba
Y otras, dicen que era negro

Pero si quieren saber la historia
La historia del hombre del hombre muerto
No la busque en las revistas
Y sí, en sus pensamientos

Porque no sé si era Juan o si era Roberto
Si tenía barba o si él era negro
Yo sé que los 4 estan todos muertos
¿Y quien los mató?
No sé si estan muertos

Has muerto en el ardiente amancecer del mundo
Has muerto, irremediablemente has muerto
Parada está tu voz, tu sangre en tierra
Has muerto, no lo olvido
Que tierra crecerá que no te alze
Que sangre correrá que no te nombre
Que voz madurará de nuestros labios que no diga tu muerte, tu silencio
El callado dolor de no tenerte

No sé si era Juan o si era Roberto
Si tenía barba o si él era negro
Yo sé que los cuatro estan todos muertos
¿Y quien los mató?
No sé si estan muertos

No sé si era Juan o si era Roberto
Si tenía barba o si él era negro
Yo sé que los cuatro están todos muertos
¿Y quien los mató?

The Story of the Dead Man

If you want to know the story
The story of the dead man
Don't look for it in the magazines
Yes, in your thoughts

The magazines that publish
The story of the dead man
Write what they are told
And forget your thoughts

Some say he was John
And others, that he was Robert
They say he had a beard
And others, that he was black

But if you want to know the story
The story of the dead man
Don't look for it in the magazines
Yes, in your thoughts

Because I don't know if it was John or if it was Robert
If he had a beard or if he was black
I know that all 4 are dead
And who killed them?
I don't know if they are dead

You died in the burning dawn of the world
You have died, you have irremediably died
Your voice is still, your blood in the dirt
You have died, I do not forget
What land will grow that will not raise you
What blood will flow that will not name you
What voice will mature from our lips that will not speak your death, your silence
The silent pain of not having you

I don't know if it was John or if it was Robert
If he had a beard or if he was black
I know that all four are dead
And who killed them?
I don't know if they are dead

I don't know if it was John or if it was Robert
If he had a beard or if he was black
I know that all four are dead
And who killed them?