Saludos para todos quienes participan en la comunidad de Hive open mic, para esta semana #75 que tiene como lema Madurez Digna, escogí un tema el cual considero reúne los requisitos exigidos como lo es “Viejo mi querido viejo” de los autores en la música Piero y en la letra José Tcherkaski.
Greetings to all those who participate in the community of Hive open mic, for this week # 75 which has as its theme Dignified Maturity, I chose a theme which I consider meets the requirements as it is "Old my dear old" of the authors in music and lyrics Piero José Tcherkaski Joseph Tcherkaski.
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I chose this theme in the sense that I consider that a worthy maturity is reached by those people who have had a long journey of life, those older people who have reached many decades and this theme refers to an older person with experience and q the years have been deteriorating but has a lot of knowledge and experience to pass on.
Es un buen tipo mi viejo
Que anda solo y esperando,
Tiene la tristeza larga,
De tanto venir andando.
Yo lo miro desde lejos,
Pero somos tan distintos;
Es que creció con el siglo,
Con tranvía y vino tinto.
Ahora ya camina lerdo,
Como perdonando al viento.
Yo soy tu sangre, mi viejo;
Soy tu silencio y tu tiempo.
Y una figura pesada,
La edad se le vino encima,
Sin carnaval ni comparsa.
Yo tengo los años nuevos
Y el hombre, los años viejos;
El dolor lo lleva adentro
Y tiene historia sin tiempo.
Ahora ya camina lerdo,
Como perdonando al viento.
Yo soy tu sangre, mi viejo;
Soy tu silencio y tu tiempo.
Yo soy tu sangre, mi viejo;
Yo soy tu silencio y tu tiempo.
Letter
He's a nice guy my old man
Who's alone and waiting,
He's got a long sadness,
From so much coming and going.
I look at him from afar,
But we're so different;
He grew up with the century,
With streetcars and red wine.
Old man, my dear old man,
Now he's walking slow,
As if forgiving the wind.
I am your blood, my old man;
I am your silence and your time.
He has good eyes
And a heavy figure,
Age came upon him,
Without carnival or comparsa.
I have the new years
And the man, the old years;
The pain is inside him
And has history without time.
Old man, my dear old man,
Now he walks slow,
As if forgiving the wind.
I am your blood, my old man;
I am your silence and your time.
I am your blood, my old man;
I am your silence and your time.
Translated with www.DeepL.com/Translator (free version)