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Deportees

Woody Guthrie
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OriginalVersione spagnola di Roy Brown dall’album “Que vaya bien” di...
DEPORTEES

The crops are all in and the peaches are rotting
The oranges are packed in the creosote dumps
They're flying you back to the Mexico border
To pay all your money to wade back again

Goodbye to my Juan, goodbye Rosalita
Adios mis amigos, Jesus y Maria
You won't have a name when you ride the big airplane
All they will call you will be deportees

My father's own father, he waded that river
They took all the money he made in his life
My brothers and sisters come working the fruit trees
They rode the big trucks till they lay down and die

Goodbye to my Juan, goodbye Rosalita
Adios mis amigos, Jesus y Maria
You won't have a name when you ride the big airplane
All they will call you will be deportees

The skyplane caught fire over Los Gatos Canyon
A fireball of lightning, and it shook all the hills
Who are these comrades that died like the dry leaves
The radio tells me they're just deportees

Goodbye to my Juan, goodbye Rosalita
Adios mis amigos, Jesus y Maria
You won't have a name when you ride the big airplane
All they will call you will be deportees

We died in your hills and we died in your deserts
We died in your valleys we died on your plains
We died 'neath your trees and we died in your bushes
Both sides of the river we died just the same

Goodbye to my Juan, goodbye Rosalita
Adios mis amigos, Jesus y Maria
You won't have a name when you ride the big airplane
All they will call you will be deportees

Some of us are illegal, and others not wanted
Our work contract's out and we have to move on
But it's six hundred miles to that Mexican border
They chase us like outlaws, like rustlers, like thieves.

Goodbye to my Juan, goodbye Rosalita
Adios mis amigos, Jesus y Maria
You won't have a name when you ride the big airplane
All they will call you will be deportees

Is this the best way we can grow our big orchards
Is this the best way we can grow our good fruit
To fall like dry leaves and rot on the top soil
and be called by no name except "deportee"

Goodbye to my Juan, goodbye Rosalita
Adios mis amigos, Jesus y Maria
You won't have a name when you ride the big airplane
All they will call you will be deportees
DEPORTADO

La cosecha ya está, se pudren los melocotones,
las naranjas en sus canastas amontonadas están.
Los regresan por avión a la frontera mexicana;
que paguen de nuevo si quieren cruzar.

El padre de mi padre vadeó ese río;
le quitaron to’ el dinero que él trabajó.
Mis hermanos y hermanas laboraron los frutales,
se montaron al camión hasta caer y morir.

Adiós a mi Juan, adiós, Rosalita,
adiós mis amigos, Jesús y María.
No tendrás tu nombre al viajar el aeroplano:
para ellos sólo serás Deportado.

Ilegales somos unos, y a otros no nos quieren.
Se acaba el contrato, hay que seguir:
son seiscientas millas a la frontera mexicana.
Nos largan cual ladrones que hay que acechar.

Morimos en sus montes, morimos en sus desiertos,
morimos sobre sus valles y sobre sus llanos,
morimos bajo sus árboles y matorrales;
en ambos lados del río, nos morimos igual.

Adiós a mi Juan, adiós, Rosalita,
adiós mis amigos, Jesús y María.
No tendrás tu nombre al viajar el aeroplano:
para ellos sólo serás Deportado.

El aeroplano prendió en fuego sobre el Cañón Los Gatos:
un bólido de luz conmovió nuestros montes.
‎¿Y estos amigos, cual hojas secas regados?
La radio comenta: ”Sólo son deportados”.

‎¿Es así que se labora en nuestros grandiosos huertos?
‎¿Recoger de esta manera nuestro frutal
y caer como hojas secas, pudrirnos en la tierra?
Y tu nombre será por siempre el Deportado.‎

Adiós a mi Juan, adiós, Rosalita,
adiós mis amigos, Jesús y María.
No tendrás tu nombre al viajar el aeroplano:
para ellos sólo serás Deportado.


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