Gol Argentino

(spoken)
For my white and sky blue jersey, World Cup.
For the legion of all those who raise their glory,
on the grass or on the stands.
For that fan who on Sundays
leaves his heart in football,
when the crazy ball with twelve panels
looks for the points of illusion.
For the kid, for the little boy
who behind the goal shouts his word
I leave this tango for memory,
like a great goal from the heart.

The eleven lions of the Argentine team
are already on the field measuring the rival.
The whistle sounds, the enemy goal
seems to tremble in fear in its nets.
The ball dances its crazy pirouette,
the crowd goes wild heating up in the sun.
And thirsty for goal, muscle and nerve
five arrows go in search of the goal.

Suddenly a pass from the midfield,
a winger cuts inside centering to the field.
It's taken by an agile player, dribbles a man,
and the stands are already on their feet.
The wine begins, a great whirl,
pass and dribble, a tackle sounds
Goal!
Goal in the air, Argentine goal,
and a champion is born in the local style.

The star of football shines in the River Plate,
it was born in a field with one bare foot.
With a foot of a little mouse, from a tin neighborhood,
that's why it's a suburb shooting in a team.
The world applauds you, champion of champions,
my immortal white and sky blue jersey.
A cheer for those stars who gave you honors. Hurray!
Silence, boys, for those who are not here.

Suddenly a pass from the midfield,
a winger cuts inside looking for the goal.
Goal in the air, Argentine goal
and a champion is born in the local style.