Текст и перевод песни Silvio Rodríguez - Canción en Harapos - Fragmento

Canción en Harapos - Fragmento

Que facil es agitar un pañuelo a la tropa solar,
Del manifiesto marxista y la historia del hombre
Que facil es suspirar ante el gesto del hombre
Que cumple un deber
Y regalarle ropitas a la pobrecita hija del chofer
Que facil de enmascarar sale la oportunidad.
Que facil es engañar al que no sabe leer
Cuantos colores, cuantas facetas
Tiene el pequeño burgues.
Que facil es trascender con fama de original
Pero se sabe que entre los ciegos
El tuerto suele mandar
Que facil de apuntalar sale la vieja moral
Que se disfraza de barricada
De los que nunca tuvieron nada
Que bien prepara su mascarada
El pequeño burgues.
Viva el harapo señor
Y la mesa sin mantel
Viva el que huela a callejuela
A palabrota y taller.
Desde una mesa repleta cualquiera decide aplaudir
La caravana en harapos de todos los pobres
Desde un mantel importado y un vino añejado
Se lucha muy bien desde una casa gigante
Y un auto elegante se sufre tambien
En un amable festin se suele ver combatir.
Si facil es abusar mas facil es condenar
Y hacer papeles para la historia para que te haga un lugar.
Que facil es escribir
Algo que invita a la accion
Contra tiranos, contra asesinos
Contra la luz o el poder divino
Siempre al alcance
De la vidriera y el comedor.
Viva el harapo, señor...

Song in Rags - Excerpt

How easy it is to wave a handkerchief to the solar troop,
From the Marxist manifesto and the history of man
How easy it is to sigh at the gesture of man
Who fulfills a duty
And give little clothes to the poor daughter of the driver
How easy it is to disguise the opportunity.
How easy it is to deceive those who cannot read
How many colors, how many facets
Has the petty bourgeois.
How easy it is to transcend with a reputation of originality
But it is known that among the blind
The one-eyed man often rules
How easy it is to shore up the old morality
That disguises itself as a barricade
Of those who never had anything
How well he prepares his masquerade
The petty bourgeois.
Long live the rag, sir
And the table without a tablecloth
Long live the one who smells of alleyways
Of profanity and workshop.
From a full table, anyone decides to applaud
The caravan in rags of all the poor
From an imported tablecloth and an aged wine
It is fought very well from a giant house
And an elegant car is also suffered
In an amiable feast one usually sees combat.
If it is easy to abuse, it is easier to condemn
And to write papers for history so that it gives you a place.
How easy it is to write
Something that invites action
Against tyrants, against assassins
Against the light or the divine power
Always within reach
Of the shop window and the dining room.
Long live the rag, sir...