Alma De La Calle - Soraya

Se llama María, es abuela con nueve nietos

Sin diploma, sin un centavo, se ganó el corazón de un pueblo

Sin conocer a sus padres, sin abrazar a sus hermanos

Cuando era niña la abandonaron y cayó en malas manos

Sobre una cama de acero soñaba con los versos

Que leía cada noche en las historias del Testamento

Como una yegua sin riendas la quisieron amansar

Sin pensar que este espíritu tenía que volar

Yo soy Alma de la calle

Soy solo lo que soy

Mi refugio son mis versos el ritmo de la calle

Es el latido de mi corazón

Soy Alma de la calle

Esta es mi vida esta soy, yo soy Alma de la calle

Soy la voz que se escapó

Soy la niña que creció en el alma de la calle

La vida le dió golpes y ella vida a sus hijas

Con su amor les enseño ser fuertes y unidas

Por las mañanas trabajaba frente a un centro de cultura

Y por las noches se escapaba y hablaba con su musa

Sin más que fe en su bolsillo flotaba en la emoción

Sin saber que su poesía le iba dar tal ovación

Yo soy Alma de la calle

Humilde y sencilla nos narra sus pensamientos

Con sus dedos manchados y el cansancio en sus huesos

Nuestra María vive en miseria, nuestra María es poeta

Nuestra María lustra botas sentada en su caja de madera

Como un espejo sus palabras nos hacen apreciar

Que hay belleza en todo y todos somos igual

Her name is María, she is a grandmother with nine grandchildren

Without a diploma, without a penny, she won the heart of a town

Without knowing her parents of her, without hugging her brothers

When she was a child she was abandoned and she fell into the wrong hands

She on a steel bed she dreamed of the verses

She that she read every night in the Testament stories

Like a mare without reins they wanted to tame her

Without thinking that this spirit had to fly

I am the soul of the street

I am just what I am

My shelter is my verses the rhythm of the street

It's the beat of my heart

I am soul of the street

This is my life, this is me, I am Alma de la calle

I am the voice that got away

I am the girl who grew up in the soul of the street

Her life gave her blows and she gave life to her daughters

With her love, she taught them to be strong and united

In the mornings she worked in front of a culture center

And at night she would sneak out and talk to her muse

With nothing but faith from her in her pocket she floated on emotion

Without knowing that her poetry would give her such an ovation

I am the soul of the street

Humble and simple, she tells us her thoughts

With his stained fingers and the weariness in his bones

Our Mary lives in misery, our Mary is a poet

Our Maria shines boots sitting on her wooden box

Like a mirror of her, her words make us appreciate

That there is beauty in everything and we are all the same