Trova-tur

I was a troubadour in Havana,
philanthropist of the garbage collectors
and I spent the nights and the dawn, dark,
singing only for foreigners.
The coin they paid me with
didn't fit in any wallet
that's why when they searched me, baby,
they couldn't find the money.

I was a tropical virus,
communist Latin lover
dealing with the revolution
and its points of view.
Mix of Eusebio Leal
with a minister without portfolio.
I could quote Carlos Marx
as well as Doña Lydia Cabrera.

I took them to the Malecón
and seriously showed them
where Columbus landed
alongside Rodrigo de Triana.
And where Hemingway stepped
on wooden cobblestones
and to top it off, I sang in the main key
"Guajira Guantanamera".

Speaking Portuguese
I passed as Brazilian
but I was caught in a hotel
when I imitated a person from Buenos Aires.
They turned me upside down,
put me on the list
and told me: if you want to get lost,
become a tourist again.

And God, who is the unconsciousness of my soul,
punished me for being a fool
and one day in October in the midst of the wind, baby,
I married a Cuban.