Muchacho Pelador - Mercedes Sosa
Below is the lyrics of the song Muchacho Pelador , artist - Mercedes Sosa with translation
Lyrics " Muchacho Pelador "
Original text with translation
Muchacho Pelador
Mercedes Sosa
Оригинальный текст
Muchacho de la cosecha
Que por las manos desechas
Se van secando tus brazos
Como se seca el bagazo
Que tu cuchillo no pele fuerte
Porque en el filo anda la muerte
Compañeros del rocío
Por el camino del frío
Con el padre caminando
La angustia se va yapando
Cuando la escarcha le esté doliendo
Se alzará el nombre floreciendo
La madrugada ya está
Adolfo Aguirre se va a pelar
Su juventud en el surco
Es como el alma del azúcar
Y por las cañas que va cortando
Su Tucumán lo está llorando
Cuando el cansancio lo gana
A eso de media mañana
El vientito que le sopla
Le va soltando una copla
La pena ya no se le hace tanta
Si anda una zamba en su garganta
Y si la tarde lo alcanza
Postergando su esperanza
Regresa por los rastrojos
Con sudor en los ojos
Changuito Aguirre muchacho tierno
Florcita en la voz del invierno
La madrugada ya está
Adolfo Aguirre se va a pelar
Su juventud en el surco
Es como el alma del azúcar
Y por las cañas que va cortando
Su Tucumán lo está llorando
Перевод песни
harvest boy
That by the hands you discard
your arms are drying
How the bagasse dries
That your knife does not peel hard
Because death walks on the edge
Dew Companions
down the cold path
With the father walking
The anguish is fading away
When the frost is hurting
Will the name flourish
The morning is already
Adolfo Aguirre is going to peel
His youth of him in the groove
It's like the soul of sugar
And because of the canes that he cuts
His Tucumán of him is crying
When tiredness wins
Around mid-morning
The little wind that blows
He drops a couplet
The penalty is no longer so much
If there is a zamba in your throat
And if the afternoon catches up with him
Postponing your hope
He comes back through the stubble
with sweat in the eyes
Changuito Aguirre tender boy
Little flower in the voice of winter
The morning is already
Adolfo Aguirre is going to peel
His youth of him in the groove
It's like the soul of sugar
And because of the canes that he cuts
His Tucumán of him is crying
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