Cuando La Vida Me Nombra

Don't wait for reason
It is born from your belly
Well, it's usually an enemy
That gives no respite or breath
More if it is full of wind
It can screw up your life

Like a cow in a tram
Pushing someone else's wire fence
Man has a brake
More than once the shame
And there is no twist and there is no trienza
Let him hold on more calmly

Man crying in silence
Your loss will increase
You never know how much
Nor if he will find comfort
It is not enough to look at the sky
So that some saint can help you

Don't count on silver
What will you win tomorrow?
Throw the desire into the mouth
To change your poor life
If at the first attack
You want to get away from the cattle prod

I've never seen such a cool couple
Although the even girth
You can have reflection
But here comes the tip
The yoke is girded upon you
How to spit on the eyebrow

One has the heart
They say that so that one feels
They say that so that one feels
I don't know if the bill is worth it
Of the feelings that endure
A heart that does not sing
It's a heart that bursts

The strength that is apparent
Sometimes it's not true
Not everything goes out
When you have to leave
That's why he usually dies
The heart of waiting

The man seeks revenge
Of all that he lost
Plus the time he found
And what spending and will spend
He will only feel it in the time he lived
Because until the time comes
There will be no service without conscience
Taken from the experience of others and my own
History says so
Even though there is interference
Nobody stops my fate
No matter how much fencing there is
I have my soul and God help me
And never leave me alone
If you have given me the best money
Living under his sight

Since then he told me where to go
Every path is made
Light is a trace and a right
And even if I find myself in the shadow
When life calls me
I walk the footprint of the chest

Have the truth in your hand
Who depends on breathing
You will not find a better garment
For any need
What a real pain
Without bridle, muzzle or reins
Crushed in the anvil
Even iron comes to its senses
It is also delivered to the bank
The most pointed belly
But there will always be a doubt
In the middle of the heart
What is the interpretation
That man gives to destiny
Maybe it's a mistake
Wanting to know what I am for
A yesterday that brought a today
For an Argentine tomorrow
What is so much desire for?
If there is nothing to gallop with
And sometimes to heel them
Sorrows throw tantrums
And in more than one they cower
From using them so much again

There is no gaucho who does not find sorrows
Where to put the skeleton
Walking badly is an account
That has no terminal
Everything different is the same
The way it pops

The sky has a storm
When the gaucho walks with sadness
There are no good hours
Not even the singing streams
The broom does not give flowers
If the gaucho has a chain

The man who sings to the man
With a true song
He is not a criminal or a thug
But sometimes because of the nickname
With the bow on the neck
Can't find a vent
There are those who give away chickens
Or a goat ties your leg
And even if you throw away the espadrille
You will not escape from the trap
This is the one who prepares the prepo
And he who waters the sweet potato
Man endures bad times
And he walks on good terms
Barefoot among the thorns
Or in the softest sand
But man never knows
In which principle it ends

Sometimes, sometimes I walk in time
So and so disoriented
I don't even know why I was raised
If the world is too big for me
And to top it all off
I don't even know how to end what is a sin
That I neither steal nor kill
That neither steals nor kills
I don't know if I will steal
That if I kill neither
And so I spend little by little
The maybes and the no-knows

The man who has arms
But nothing in the kitchen
He will live gathering resentment
For a very clear reason
Every arm that stops
It is hunger that is coming
Hunger hurts because of hunger
But it hurts more because it's sad
And it did not exist and it does not exist
Animal that can handle it
Without finally getting up
To leave if you didn't leave

How many things you keep quiet
Heart for a breath
Like a draft nag
Straps even on the descent
And if you kick
You're going to your last breath
From the winters of the soul
There will be things to tell
Who doesn't have something to think about?
Some memory strung together
Or some withered dream
Who wants to resurrect

I know my song is sad
Instead of being beautiful
That I enter into the thickness of crying
Even if I don't name it
What song will the man sing?
Who knows no bitterness
Several springs ago
That I have stopped being a boy
And even though I'm downcast
Because of rheumatism
I have the same heart
Even if it lacks some pieces

One goes in to play guitar
And it really gets hot
And the verse comes out
Like little threads of murmur
That is weaving a lullaby
Of silence and smoke
The intention is loose
On the shoulders of a milonga
Some tension is rumbling
By the sucking of the wind
And there is a smell of regret
In a sad couplet

Nobody will move
A finger to annoy
No one else has to be there
To get bored at this time
I have a contract with myself
And I will respect it
Every man is worth so much
At the price that is taken
Silver has the reins
Ambition and greed
That is why justice
The bandage usually falls off
There is always some boss
Sitting on his golden chair
That accommodates the implores
According to the milk of the day
Cold Belly Bug
That crushes you even if you are a bull
In a crop suck
Can the world settle down?
But it can burst
If anyone tries to move
There is always someone who prefers to become
Ande another wants to sit
There are people for every case
And there is a case for everyone
It's a matter of being aware
And see which one fits in
So that at least the shroud
Don't be insolvent
There is always time to dispose
When the wait is for someone else
Time is a gate
With a tremendous candau
And the arrangement is on one side
That one feels like an outsider

How it dies slowly
The peasant tradition
And it hurts like a thorn
That sinks into infinity
Every step is a little bit
What is given to the foreigner
Every delivery is a hole
What is done to the flag
And the air is a hovel
With a sincere taste for nothing
The nights have smells
To ideas without springs
And chimeras are chewed
Where they took flowers
Shadows are the dawns
What the gaucho sees when he wakes up
You can't shout anymore
Without it being a mistake
To be Creole and Argentine
It is a reason not to tremble
How it dies slowly
The peasant tradition
Hanging from a thin thread
He is giving his last cry
It hurts to feel small
In one's own land
Pushed like a cow
To consume what is imported
Living off borrowed money
Earless and king
Walking along the roads
Where my brothers went
One buries oneself in guano
Even beyond the linden tree
Disoriented and tired
The heart of the Creole is
Trying to put the roll together
To throw one more pial is not
Some light to be seen
To get out of so much trouble
If one thinks in Argentine
With no other intention than to be so
They think it's a bug from hell
Or it smells like skunk
We always talk about destiny
To gather resignation
But I ask for a reason
To the one who promotes dispossession
And his eye is pricked
Look at the nation
Peace and war are made
And whatever comes if it's business
And even the sky is a consortium
Managed on Earth
When God arms the branding
Because one day it has to be
When it is time to put it on
Honor on the grid
How many male knees
Surely we must have
Questions and more questions
What they do to me and what I do
Nobody answered me
And what should I answer?
If I must cushion
What I owe to the creator
I must find within myself
All the peace that remains for me
To see if my mind can
And even entering into rebellion
Sing with the heart
But sing what you should

Let no one take a risk
From my shop for your gear
By dint of being sincere
I have earned more than one setback
But nothing is worth that much
Like this land that I love
There is no reason why it should not be heard
The voice of an Argentine song
Don't be afraid of the trill
That is born in one's land
And don't make him a king
No matter how much fate presses
The land is usually someone else's
But the song must be one's own
Bread is usually fasting
And shame with cold
Be the water and the river of another
But the song... But the song
It must be one's own
If any reason assists you
There is no reason to go to the deck
Only one size fits
And you have to accept it even if it's hard
Because there is no worse plague
That untie the girdle
That's why I keep going straight
I'm slow but I don't stop
I know that I have no protection
If I don't protect myself
And I even made a catechism
With creeds that are very clear
I believe in my God
And in a believe, I believe in everything I have seen
If I exist by existing
My creed has not lied to me
And so as not to be resentful
When I lose my funny side
Nations have been invented
To spread tumult
Each one invented her cult
Flag, church, custom
But the man, but the man
There is rust on the middle of the pardon
However, one must believe in the truth
Even if it seems like a lie
If even the market stretches
When the handle holds
How not to believe in the holy truth
If you breathe it
Sometimes I look at my children
How do they come into life?
Slowly and without departure
They mix in the tumult
It may be that from that lump
Let a moderate soul come out
I wish I could know
If what I feel is of any use
Be free as the wind is
Be honest to the point of Calvary
And use the alphabet
Until you lose your breath
Heart that gallops
Across the plain of the chest
What ball will be lurking
To calm your frolic
Look how beautiful the sky is
But the slope is very long
Above whom there is no other
And below whom there are not so many
Above whom there is no other
And below whom there are not so many
Giving candles to a saint
So that their luck changes
Of suffering for loving you
Homeland of a thousand setbacks