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Soldado así no he de ser

Elena Huerta


Lingua: Spagnolo


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Dal disco "Elena Huerta canta a Nicolás Guillén" inciso in argentina nei primi anni 70.
Il testo è costituito dall'omonima poesia del cubano Nicolás Guillén tratta dalla sua raccolta del 1937 intitolata "Cantos para soldados y sones para turistas".

Elena Huerta canta a Nicolás Guillén
Soldado no quiero ser,
que así no habrán de mandarme
a herir al niño y al negro,
y al infeliz que no tiene
qué comer.
Soldado así no he de ser.

¡Mira al caballo en dos patas,
y al soldado encima dél,
con ojos llenos de furia,
con boca llena de hiel,
y el machetón, que lo mismo
mata viejo que mujer!
Soldado así no he de ser.

¡Ah de los trenes de tropas,
fríos al amanecer,
en duros rieles de sangre
corriendo a todo correr
para aplastar una huelga
o estrangular un batey!
Soldado así no he de ser.

¡Ah de los ojos con vendas,
porque vendados no ven!
¡Ah de las manos atadas
y la cadena en los pies!
¡Ah de los tristes soldados
esclavos del coronel!
Soldado así no he de ser.

Si a mí me dieran un rifle
les diría a mis hermanos
para qué sirve.
A mis hermanos soldados
para qué sirve.
Pero a mí no me lo dan,
porque sé para qué sirve,
por eso no me lo dan.
Ni a ti te lo dan, ni a ti,
ni a ti, ni a ti... ¡Qué soldados
íbamos a ser nosotros
en caballos desbocados!

Soldado así quiero ser.
El que no cuida el central,
que no es dél,
ni reina, como un rey tosco
de cuartel,
ni sobre el campo de caña
tiras arranca de piel,
feroz igual que un negrero,
y aún más cruel.

Soldado libre, soldado
no más que al esclavo fiel:
Soldado así quiero ser.

inviata da Alessandro - 2/11/2009 - 11:26



Lingua: Inglese

Traduzione inglese di Langston Hughes e Ben Frederic Carruthers da “Cuba Libre - ‎Poems by Nicolás Guillén”, 1948.‎
THAT KIND OF SOLDIER, NOT ME

I don't want to be a soldier,
then they won't need to send me
to jump on kids and Negroes
and folks with nothing to eat.
That kind of a soldier, not me!‎

Look at that horse charging
with the soldier on his back
with eyes full of hate
and mouth full of gall
and sword ready to kill
an old man or a woman.
That kind of soldier, not me!‎

Oh, the cold troop trains at dawn
on fierce rails of blood
running full speed
to break a strike
or close in on a sugar mill.
That kind of soldier, not me!‎

Oh, blindfolded eyes
that can't see because they're blindfolded.
Oh, hands that are tied
that can't reach out because they're tied.
Oh, poor soldier-slaves of some colonel.
That kind of soldier, not me!‎

If they ever gave me a gun,
I'd give it to my brothers to use,
to my fellow soldiers to use.
But they won't give me a gun
because I know what it's for.
That's why they won't give me a gun,
nor you, nor you, nor you.‎

What soldiers we would be
on horses without reins.
That kind of soldier, that's me!
A soldier who doesn't care
about a sugar mill that isn't his,
or about bossing folks around
like a tin-horn barracks king,
or about tearing the hide
off some cane field,
meaner and harder
than a slave-driver.
A free soldier, a soldier
no longer at the service of slavers.
That kind of soldier, that's me!‎

If you don't give me a gun,
I'll find one myself--
since I know what it's for!‎

inviata da Bartleby - 7/12/2011 - 10:04



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