My dear lovers of music and the world meeting of #hive Openmic Week 109, although I have sung this song on other occasions with tracks, today my guitar dared to accompany me in a safe and imposing way, I did not believe in anyone, ensuring to sound in the best possible way, a song by Silvio that has the name The Kite, a beautiful song with subtle changes while narrating a story of those commons among the peoples, as always very happy to be able to bring music to everyone and hoping that it will be of total pleasure to everyone in the beloved family #hive.
El Papalote
Silvio Rodríguez
Será por tu vivienda
Hecha de ruinas y de misterios
Porque rompías la roca
Para ganarte un par de medios
O por tus tirapiedras
Los más famosos de la loma
Con la mejor horqueta
De la guayaba y duras gomas
Será por todo esto
Que mi memoria se empina a ratos
Como tus papalotes
Los invencibles, los más baratos
Y te levanta en peso
Narciso "El Mocho" para ponerte
Junto a los elegidos
Los que no caben en la muerte
El papalote
Cae, cae, cae, cae, cae
El papalote
Cae, cae, cae, cae, cae
Se va a bolina la imaginación
Buena cuchilla la picó
Una vez de tus manos
Un coronel salió brillando
Qué pájaro perfecto
Cuántos colores, qué lindo canto
Ninguno de nosotros iba a volarlo
Ya se sabía
Era un encargo caro del que mandaba
Del que tenía
Llevabas en el puño
Aquel dinero de la tristeza
Dinero de aguardiente
Del sol de Cuba, de la cerveza
Y te seguimos todos a celebrarlo
Sucios y locos
Para ti Carta Oro
Y caramelos para nosotros
El papalote
Cae, cae, cae, cae, cae
El papalote
Cae, cae, cae, cae, cae
Se va a bolina la imaginación
Buena cuchilla la picó
La gente te chiflaba
Cuando en la tarde subías borracho
Tú contestabas piedras
Y maldiciones a tus muchachos
Eras el personaje
De los trajines de tu pueblo
Eras para la gracia
Eras un viejo, eras negro
Una noche el respeto
Bajó y te puso bella corona
Respeto de mortales
Que muerto al fin te hizo persona
Pobre del que pensó
Pobre de toda aquella gente
Que el día más importante
De tu existencia fue el de tu muerte
El papalote
Cae, cae, cae, cae, cae
El papalote
Cae, cae, cae, cae, cae
Se va a bolina la imaginación
Buena cuchilla la picó.
The Kite
Silvio Rodríguez
It will be for your home
Made of ruins and mysteries
Because you broke the rock
To earn a couple of means
Or for your stone throwers
The most famous of the hill
With the best pitchfork
Guava and hard gums
It will be for all this
That my memory steepens at times
Like your kites
The invincibles, the cheapest
And it lifts you in weight
Narciso "El Mocho" to wear
Together with the chosen ones
Those who do not fit in death
The kite
Falls, falls, falls, falls, falls
The kite
Falls, falls, falls, falls, falls
Imagination goes to bolina
Good blade stung her
Once out of your hands
A colonel came out shining
What a perfect bird
How many colors, what a nice song
None of us were going to blow it up.
It was already known
It was an expensive commission from which he commanded
The one I had
You carried in your fist
That money of sadness
Brandy money
From the Cuban sun, from beer
And we follow you all to celebrate it
Dirty and crazy
For you Gold Letter
And candy for us
The kite
Falls, falls, falls, falls, falls
The kite
Falls, falls, falls, falls, falls
Imagination goes to bolina
Good blade stung her
People cracked you up
When in the afternoon you went up drunk
You answered stones
And curses to your boys
You were the character
Of the trajines of your people
Ages for Grace
You were an old man, you were black
One night of respect
He went down and put a beautiful crown on you.
Respect for mortals
How dead at last made you a person
Poor man he thought of
Poor of all those people
What the most important day
Of your existence was that of your death
The kite
Falls, falls, falls, falls, falls
The kite
Falls, falls, falls, falls, falls
Imagination goes to bolina
Good blade stung her.
▶️ 3Speak