Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song El Viejo Matias, artist - Luciano Pereyra. Album song Serie De Oro - Vol. 2, in the genre Музыка мира
Date of issue: 31.12.2009
Record label: EMI Odeon SAIC
Song language: Spanish
El Viejo Matias(original) |
La lluvia y el viento eran dos hermanos |
Corriendo furiosos por el terrapln |
Y en un banco oscuro mojado y mugriento |
l se acomodaba su uniforme gris |
El viejo Matas duerme en cualquier parte |
Un fantasma errante le toca la piel |
Pero cuando llueve sus despojos buscan |
La estacin de chapas de Paso del Rey |
Es cuco de nios y de no tan nios |
Su figura triste cruzando el andn |
Porque nadie ha visto sus ojos cansados |
La cruz del olvido temblando en sus pies |
A veces murmura cosas incoherentes |
Habla de la guerra, imita el can |
Y otras veces pone en sus ojos un nio |
Y acuna en sus brazos su bolso marrn |
Cuando llegan trenes repletos de obreros |
Se pone contento, brilla su mirar |
Gorrin de la tarde quiere hablar con todos |
Y despus se queda solo en el andn |
Se queda mirando las vas vacas |
La luz que se pierde, el tren que pas |
Y despus se aleja murmurando cosas |
El viejo Matas ogro del lugar |
(translation) |
The rain and the wind were two brothers |
Running furious down the embankment |
And on a wet and grimy dark bench |
He was adjusting his gray uniform |
Old Matas sleeps anywhere |
A wandering ghost touches her skin |
But when it rains the spoils of him seek |
The Paso del Rey sheet metal station |
He is cuckoo of children and not so children |
His sad figure of him crossing the platform |
Because no one has seen his tired eyes |
The cross of oblivion trembling at its feet |
Sometimes he mutters incoherent things |
Talk about the war, imitate the dog |
And other times he puts in his eyes a child |
And he cradles her brown bag in his arms |
When trains full of workers arrive |
He gets happy, his look shines |
Sparrow of the afternoon he wants to talk to everyone |
And then he stays alone on the platform |
He stares at the empty vases |
The light that is lost, the train that passed |
And then he walks away muttering things |
The old Matas ogre of the place |