Текст и перевод песни Ricardo "Canario" Martínez - Gatiao Viejo

Gatiao Viejo

Acuclinau junto a una mata'e paja,
que hacía chiflar enfurecido el viento,
dándole el anca a la garuga helada,
y entumido de frío hasta los huesos,
hallé aquel crudo atardecer de Junio,
al pobre gatiao viejo.
Lo habían largao allí pa que muriera,
flaco, sin fuerza ya cansao y hambriento,
en un camino que'ra puro barro,
y ande no iba encontrar ni un pasto seco,
y lo que es peor, solito,
frente al rigor del despiadado invierno.
Al cruzarme con él, sus tristes ojos,
apagados por el tiempo,
me miraron de un modo cuasi humano,
y un relincho que a cuasi fuese un ruego,
se le escapó por entre los dientres tronchos,
y me punzó como una espina el pecho.
Entonces yo me le allegué despacio,
le hablé como se le habla a un compañero,
le palmié, las costillas,
que por poco aujeriaban ya el pellejo,
y acabé por llevarmelo de tiro,
atándole una soga en el pescuezo.
Ahora lo tengo en el galpón del rancho,
repartiendose el maíz con mi azulejo,
abrigao y durmiendo en cama'e pasto,
como si fuese un pingo parejero,
y aunque es viejaso el pobre,
pa mi que no lo basurié este invierno.
Con sus años pa nada habrá de servirme,
aunque engorde y empeleche en buen tiempo,
pero eso a mi, nada me importa,
pués no lo traje pa sacar provecho.
Y estoy pagao de sobra con la forma que el me mira,
cuando le proseo...

Old Nag

Crouched beside a clump of paja grass,
Where the wind whistled angrily,
Turning his back to the icy drizzle,
And numb with cold to the bone,
I found him that harsh June evening,
The poor old nag.
They had left him there to die,
Skinny, without strength, tired and hungry,
On a road that was pure mud,
Where he wouldn't find even a dry patch of grass,
And what's worse, alone,
Facing the harshness of the merciless winter.
As I crossed paths with him, his sad eyes,
Dimmed by time,
Looked at me in an almost human way,
And a whinny that was almost a plea,
Escaped through his broken teeth,
And it pierced my chest like a thorn.
Then I approached him slowly,
Spoke to him as you would a companion,
Palmed his ribs,
That almost pierced his skin,
And I ended up taking him with me,
Tying a rope around his neck.
Now I have him in the shed by the ranch,
Sharing the corn with my blue roan,
Warm and sleeping in a bed of straw,
As if he were a racehorse,
And although the poor thing is old,
I don't think he'll waste away this winter.
With his age, he won't be of any use to me,
Even if he fattens up and gets healthy in good weather,
But that doesn't matter to me,
Because I didn't bring him here to take advantage.
And I'm more than rewarded by the way he looks at me,
When I talk to him...