Текст и перевод песни Pablo Milanés - Al Buen Pedro

Al Buen Pedro

Dicen, buen Pedro, que de mí murmuras
Porque tras mis orejas el cabello
En crespas ondas su caudal levanta

Diles, bribón, que mientras tú en festines
En rubios caldos y en fragantes pomas
Entre mancebas del astuto norte
De tus esclavos el sudor sangriento
Torcido en oro descuidado bebes

Pensativo, febril, pálido, grave
Mi pan rebano en solitaria mesa
Pidiendo, oh, triste al aire sordo modo
De libertar de su infortunio al siervo
Y de tu infamia a ti

Y en estos lances
Suéleme, Pedro, en la apretada bolsa
Faltar la monedilla que reclama
Con sus húmedas manos el barbero

To the Good Pedro

They say, good Pedro, you murmur about me
Because behind my ears my hair
In rippling waves raises its volume

Tell them, you scoundrel, that while you at feasts
In golden wines and in fragrant apples
Among wenches from the wily north
You drink the bloody sweat of your slaves
Twisted into gold, you drink it without care

Thoughtful, feverish, pale, grave
I slice my bread on a lonely table
Asking, oh sadly, the deaf air for a way
To free the servant from his misfortune
And you from your disgrace

And in these trials
It often happens, Pedro, that in my tight purse
The coin is missing that the barber claims
With his wet hands