La Música Del Rio De La Plata

I feel you, I can't hear you, where are you
hiding in the southern ports
in every moon, on every corner, in every dawn
in tenements, skyscrapers, on some field
you're the scream that doesn't exist
but it's there, waiting for its chance.

There are people for whom the puddle is bad,
they stab each other
for wanting the last European suit,
for wanting to live like them
just a month ago they lived
people who turn their backs
on what is their land,
their city, and their feelings.

Candombe in Montevideo
milonga in Buenos Aires
years change you
accordion and drum
the music of the River Plate.

Let's sing on the sidewalk
because singing is also strength
let's wear out our throats
to toast
drunk on joy and hope.

Let's sing today because it's time to sing
let's not wait until later
when our chests might burst from feeling too much
when the scissors that roam around scare us
today is a time for singing and looking
inside ourselves once more.

We have a great need
to shout what burns us
every note has a soul, every soul a body
that body that wakes up every morning
wanting to recharge
full of paths, dreams, and common sense.

Candombe...
Let's sing...