‘‘ El viejo que yo quisiera ser’’

VOICE 1: Life chases after me, pricking my heels with its minute hand. Time is a sculptor dealing with the wrinkles that furrow my skin. CHORUS: And that doesn't VOICE 1: Mean I have to kill myself. CHORUS: And that doesn't VOICE 1: Mean I'm falling behind. CHORUS: And that doesn't VOICE 1: Mean they're going to silence me. VOICE 1: Old rum is better. The devil knows more for being old than for being quarrelsome. Fashions move like a train, mixes of old styles with new models. CHORUS: And that doesn't VOICE 1: Mean I have to kill myself. CHORUS: And that doesn't VOICE 1: Mean I'm falling behind. CHORUS: And that doesn't VOICE 1: Mean CHORUS: That they're going to silence me. CHORUS: But if I could choose, the old man I would like to be, VOICE 1: I would prefer Old Compay with his trip from Alto Cedro to Marcané, CHORUS: But if I could choose, I would prefer Old Compay VOICE 1: After so many tumbles that life has given, it has rewarded him like a king. VOICE 1: On the edge of destiny there are many chairs, if you sit down you are punished by the chimeras of the road, if you do not open your pupils you are devastated by the tidal wave with its many, with its few, with its healthy, with its broken, although walking sticks appear and bone pains are daily, I wet my pants, or I get a hump like a dromedary CHORUS: That does not VOICE 1: It means that I have to kill myself. CHORUS: That does not VOICE 1: It means that I am falling behind CHORUS: That does not VOICE 1: It means that they are going to silence me. CHORUS: But if I could choose the old man I would like to be, VOICE 1: I would prefer Old Compay with his trip from Alto Cedro to Marcané, CHORUS: But if I could choose I would prefer Old Compay VOICE 1: After so many tumbles that life gave him, it rewarded him like a king.

VOZ 1: La vida va tras de mí
pinchándome los talones con su minutero,
el tiempo es un escultor
tratando con las arrugas
que surcan mi cuero.
CORO: Y eso no
VOZ 1: Significa que me tengo que matar.
CORO: Y eso no
VOZ 1: Significa que me estoy quedando atrás
CORO: Y eso no
VOZ 1: Significa que me van a callar.

VOZ 1: El ron añejo es mejor,
más sabe el diablo por viejo que por pendenciero,
las modas van como un tren,
mezclas de estilos antiguos con nuevos modelos,
CORO: Y eso no
VOZ 1: Significa que me tengo que matar.
CORO: Y eso no
VOZ 1: Significa que me estoy quedando atrás
CORO: Y eso no
VOZ 1: Significa
CORO: Que me van a callar.

CORO: Pero si yo pudiera escoger,
el viejo que yo quisiera ser,
VOZ 1: preferiría al Viejo Compay con su viaje de Alto Cedro a Marcané,
CORO: Pero si yo pudiera escoger,
preferiría al Viejo Compay
VOZ 1: Después de tanto tumbo que dio la vida lo premió como a un rey.

VOZ 1: En el borde del destino hay muchas sillas, si te sientas te castigan las quimeras del camino,
si no abres las pupilas te devasta el maremoto con sus muchos, con sus pocos, con sus sanos con sus rotos,
aunque aparezcan bastones y los dolores de hueso sean a diario,
me moje los pantalones,
o me salga una joroba como a un dromedario
CORO: Eso no
VOZ 1: Significa que me tengo que matar.
CORO: Eso no
VOZ 1: Significa que me estoy quedando atrás
CORO: Eso no
VOZ 1: Significa que me van a callar.
CORO: Pero si yo pudiera escoger
el viejo que yo quisiera ser,
VOZ 1: Preferiría al Viejo Compay con su viaje de Alto Cedro a Marcané,
CORO: Pero si yo pudiera escoger
preferiría al Viejo Compay
VOZ 1: Después de tanto tumbo que dio la vida lo premió como a un rey.