Bronca

By following my conscience
I am well in the palm tree,
without a mango in my wallet
and with a reputation for being a chabón.
This is the modern era
where the delinquent triumphs,
and the one who wants to be decent
is from the time of Columbus.

Politeness has gone out of fashion,
there are no manners with the ladies,
no more respect for gray hair
nor laws nor power.
Decency has been thrown
in the garbage can
and the love of culture
everything is a group, pure bluff.

What's going on in this country,
what is it, my God,
that we are getting so low?
What a lid that the year sixty-two
the year sixty-two!
What's the matter?
What infernal sign
What infernal sign
drags him to pain?
Not even among brothers do they understand each other
in this great confusion...
That if the money is missing...
That if there is no more loyalty...
And our conscience,
isn't that worth more?

To re-cast whomever we can
is the last slogan
and no one is resigned
to remain unplated...
Drugs are trafficked,
housing, contraband.
Everyone barks for control,
nobody wants to work.

The mule drivers go by car
Satan is on a spree
and behind the fanfare
the harlequin jumps and dances...
It's time for the assault!
Let's get into them, they're cakes!
And so they burn the laurels
that we knew how to achieve.