Papalote

It must be because of your dwelling
Made of ruins and mysteries
Because you broke the rock
To earn a couple of coins
Or because of your slingshots
The most famous in the hill
With the best fork
Made of guava and tough rubber bands
It must be because of all this
That my memory soars at times
Like your kites
The invincible, the cheapest
And it lifts in weight
Narciso 'El Mocho', to put you
Next to the chosen ones
Those who don't fit in death

The kite, falls, falls, falls, falls, falls
The kite, falls, falls, falls, falls, falls
The imagination goes adrift
A good blade cut it

Once from your hands
A colonel came out shining
What a perfect bird
So many colors, such a beautiful song
None of us
Were going to fly it, it was already known
It was an expensive commission
From the one who commanded, from the one who had

You carried in your fist
That money of sadness
Money of aguardiente
From the Cuban sun, from the beer
And we all followed you
To celebrate it, dirty and crazy
For you, 'Carta Oro'
And candies for us

The kite, falls, falls, falls, falls, falls
The kite, falls, falls, falls, falls, falls
The imagination goes adrift
A good blade cut it

People whistled at you
When in the afternoon
You climbed drunk
You answered with stones
And curses to your boys
You were the character
Of the hustle and bustle of your town
You were for grace
You were an old man, you were black

One night respect
Came down and put a beautiful crown on you
Respect from mortals
That finally made you a person
Pity the one who thought
Pity all those people
That the most important day
Of your existence
Was the day of death

The kite, falls, falls, falls, falls, falls
The kite, falls, falls, falls, falls, falls
The imagination goes adrift
A good blade cut it

The kite, falls, falls, falls, falls, falls, falls
The kite, falls, falls, falls, falls, falls, falls
The imagination goes adrift
A good blade cut it