Текст и перевод песни Zambayonny - Don Fermin

Don Fermin

Cuando los libros que todavia no existen
Cuenten la historia de este rincón
Van a olvidarse ya lo se de Don Fermin
Por eso ahora mejor lo recuerdo yo

El que los viernes asaltaba su bodega
Encendia su pipa favorita
Y se pagaba la visita de una pebeta
Que podia ser su nieta... pero no era

Viejo de mierda decian
Las viejas de mierda cuando lo veian
Salir a la puerta vestido de fiesta
Sin tener a donde ir
Y Don Fermin se reia y a veces fingia que las perseguia
Y las viejas entraban corriendo a su casa sin quererse ir

Cuando derrumben la casa en que vivia
Y pongan alguna pijeria al paso
Van a olvidarse ya lo se de Don Fermin
Porque el progreso no le canta a los fracasos
En esos tiempos que enviudaban las mujeres
El enviudo en el hospital de los infiernos
Y estuvo sin hablar con nadie tantos meses
Que hasta el tipo se creyo que estaba muerto

Viejo de mierda decian
Las viejas de mierda cuando lo veian
Salir a la puerta vestido de fiesta
Sin tener a donde ir
Y Don Fermin se reia y a veces fingia que las perseguia
Y las viejas entraban corriendo a su casa sin quererse ir

Cuando se pasen por las bolas la memoria
Como revancha tanta cancha de baldio
Sembrando escoria por ganarle tierra al rio
Sera como si nunca hubiesemos vivido
Por eso escribo esta cancion a un amigazo
Que es igual que si el me la escribiera a mi
Para romperles las pelotas con un fiasco
Cuando le salga campeon el porvenir

Viejo de mierda decian
Las viejas de mierda cuando se moria
En la misma vereda que las perseguia
Ahora quien se va a reir...
De tanta envidia enfrascada
De tanto domingo golpeando la cara
Contra la tristeza que habita en la pieza y no deja dormir...

Don Fermin

When books that don't yet exist
Tell the story of this corner
They will forget you see of Don Fermin
That is why now it is better for me to remember him

He who on Fridays assaulted his wine cellar
Lit his favorite pipe
And paid for the visit of a young girl
Who could be his granddaughter... but was not

Old bastard, they said
The old bitches when they saw him
Come to the door dressed in his Sunday best
With nowhere to go
And Don Fermin would laugh and sometimes pretend to chase them
And the old women would run into their houses not wanting to leave

When they tear down the house where he lived
And put up some cheap trinket in its place
They will forget you see of Don Fermin
Because progress does not sing to failures
In those times when women were widowed
He was widowed in the hospital of hell
And he went without speaking to anyone for so many months
That even the guy thought he was dead

Old bastard, they said
The old bitches when they saw him
Come to the door dressed in his Sunday best
With nowhere to go
And Don Fermin would laugh and sometimes pretend to chase them
And the old women would run into their houses not wanting to leave

When the memory is gone to the balls
As revenge on the soccer field
Sowing the seeds of evil to gain land from the river
It will be as if we never lived
That's why I write this song for a good friend
Who is just like he would write it to me
To break their balls with a failure
When the future comes out as a champion

Old bastard, they said
The old bitches when he was dying
On the same sidewalk where he chased them
Now who is going to laugh...
Of so much envy in a bottle
Of so many Sundays punching the face
Against the sadness that lives in the room and won't let you sleep...