Se va la murga
Homero Manzi
The murga is leaving
The murga of the kids passes by
sowing the noise of their song.
Marking their steps with the cymbals
and the conductor's baton.
The murga passes by with its displays
amidst the nap of the suburb.
And a sound of tin fills the afternoon
and its murmur is the song of the carnival.
Joyful sound, from the out-of-tune cornet
hoarse murmur, in the tuba of the big-bellied.
Cardboard voice, in the out-of-tune bugle
and in the drums, chimpón, chimpón.
The tenor sings with a harsh off-key voice
in the entrance hall of a big house in the suburb.
And the intention of his singing is erased
by the murmur given by the tuba of the big-bellied.
The murga of the kids is leaving
carrying the noise of their song.
Marking their absence with the cymbals
and the conductor's baton.
The murga is leaving with its displays
amidst the nap of the suburb.
And a sound of sorrow vibrates in the afternoon
because the murmur of its chimpón will not return.
The murga left, the drums fall silent.
It left and the neighborhood became sadder.
It left taking along with its rumors
the tin voice of the Carnival.
