Kubala

In pele was in pele
And maradona one and enough.
Di stéfano was a bit
Of cunning.

Honor and glory to those
Who have made the sun shine
In our football
Every day.

Everyone has their merit,
Their own to each,
But for me no one
Like kubala.

Please respect the silence,
For those who have not enjoyed it
I'll give my two cents.

He stops it with his head,
Brings it down with his chest,
Lulls it with his left foot.
Crosses the midfield
With the ball
Stuck to his boot.
He leaves the defender behind
And enters the penalty area
Dribbling the ball.
He hides it with his body,
Pushes with his butt
And gets out of the tight spot.
And he fools the center back
With a one-two
With a dedication
And touches it just right
To put it on the
Path to glory.

Long live knowledge
And the joy of the game
Adorned with a touch
Of fantasy.

Football in color,
Gourmet bite,
Hook tip,
Fine cinnamon.

He stops it with his head,
Brings it down with his chest,
Lulls it with his left foot.
Crosses the midfield
With the ball
Stuck to his boot.
He leaves the defender behind
And enters the penalty area
Dribbling the ball.
He hides it with his body,
Pushes with his butt
And gets out of the tight spot.
And he fools the center back
With a one-two
With a dedication
And touches it just right
To put it on the
Path to glory.

Allow me to gloss
The glory of these deeds,
As the Greeks did
A few years ago,
With the joy of someone
Who has played by their side
And carries their picture
In their wallet.

He stops it with his head,
Brings it down with his chest,
Lulls it with his left foot.