Porque los Pobres no Tienen
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Porque los Pobres no TienenPorque los pobres no tienen adonde volver la vista, la vuelven hacia los cielos con la esperanza infinita de encontrar lo que su hermano en este mundo le quita. ¡palomita! ¡qué cosas tiene la vida, ay zambita! Porque los pobres no tienen adonde volver la voz, la vuelven hacia los cielos buscando una confesión ya que su hermano no escucha la voz de su corazón. Porque los pobres no tienen en este mundo esperanzas, se amparan en la otra vida como a una justa balanza, por eso las procesiones, las velas, las alabanzas. Para seguir la mentira, lo llama su confesor, le dice que Dios no quiere ninguna revolución, ni pliegos ni sindicatos, que ofende su corazón. De tiempos inmemoriales que se ha inventado el infierno para asustar a los pobres con sus castigos eternos, y el pobre, que es inocente, con su inocencia creyendo. Del corazon de una iglesia Salio el cantor Alejandro En vez de la letania Yo le escucho profanando Yo creo que al tal cantor Habria que excomulgarlo Como al reves esta el mundo me mandarán a prisión Y al cantor de la sotana Le daran un premio de honor Pero prisión ni gendarme Habrán de acallar mi voz Additional verse, not in this version: El cielo tiene las riendas, la tierra y el capital, y a los soldados del Papa les llena bien el morral, y al que trabaja le meten la gloria como un bozal. | Because the poor don't haveBecause the poor don't have anywhere to turn their gaze They turn towards the sky With infinite hope Of finding what their brother In this world has stolen Little dove! Such things has life Ay zambita!* Because the poor don't have Anywhere to turn their voice They turn towards the sky Seeking a confession Since their brother doesn't listen to the voice of his heart Because the poor don't have Any hope in this world They shelter themselves in the other life Like a scale of justice Hence the processions, The candles, the prayers To maintain the lie, his confessor (the priest) calls him over and says that God doesn't want Any revolutions Or strikes, or unions Which offend His heart From time immemorial Hell has been invented To frighten the poor With its eternal punishments And the poor, who are innocent Believing, in their innocence From the heart of a church Came the singer Alexander Instead of a Litany I heard him cursing I think that to such a singer should be excommunicated How backwards is the world They will send me to prison And to the singer who has a cassock They award a prize of honor But neither prison nor police militia will silence my voice Additional verse, not in this version: Heaven has the power, The land and the money And the soldiers of the Pope Stuff their bags full And on the worker they put salvation like a muzzle * "Zamba": an Argentine dance Translation by David Anderson with help from Hernán Sottolichi |