Letras

Big Kid From Bachín (Chiquilín de Bachín)

Letra: Horacio Ferrer | Música: Astor Piazzolla |

In the nights, dirty face

Of little angel in blue jeans

He sells roses around the tables

Of the pub of Bachín.

If the moon shines

Over the grill,

He eats moon and soot bread.

Each day of his sadness

That doesn’t want to wake up,

Gets the better one January 6^th

With the other way round star,

And three king cats

Steal his shoes,

One left, and the other too!

Big kid,

Give me a bunch of voice,

So I go out to sell

My shames in bloom.

Shoot me with three roses

That hurt in charge

Of the hunger I didn’t understand,

Big kid,

When the sun puts on the boys

Learning pinafores,

He learns as many zeros

As there are to know.

And looks at his mother,

Yira que te yira,*

Yira que te yira,

But doesn´t want to see her.

Each down, in the garbage,

With a piece of bread and a noodle,

He makes himself a kite

To go away, and he´s still here?

He´s a strange man,

A thousand year old kid,

That strings the tangle in the inside.

Big kid,

Give me a bunch of voice,

So I go out to sell

My shames in bloom.

Shoot me with three roses

That hurt in charge

Of the hunger I didn’t understand.

Big kid.

*yira que te yira: walk and walk around

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