28 Sep 2011

Calle 13 Latinoamerica: Un Pueblo Sin Piernas Pero que Camina

Ver este video es para mi un recorrido en mi memoria de las aventuras y experiencias que he tenido durante los últimos 10 años, conociendo a la hermosa América Latina que tanto amo y que vine a conocer y hacer conocer al mundo árabe 



Calle 13 - Latinoamérica 
Directores Jorge Carmona y Milovan Radovic 
Productor Alejandro Noriega
Patria Producciones

3 comments:

Anonymous said...

You can not buy the wind,
You can not buy the sun
You can not buy the rain,
You can not buy the heat
You can not buy the clouds,
You can not buy the colors
You can not buy my happiness,
You can not buy my pain.

ur dream is still there, it's just the politics that is ugly :)

Anonymous said...

(The translation will more or less give you an idea of the song)

I am what they left
I am all too well what they stole
A village hidden in the top
My skin is leather
So whatever the weather holds

I am a smoke factory
Peasant labor for your consumption
Cold front in the middle of summer
Love in the Time of Cholera my brother

The sun is born and the day I die
With the best sunsets
I'm raw development
A political speech without saliva

The most beautiful faces I have known
I am the picture of a missing
The blood in your veins
I am a piece of land worth

A basket with beans
I maradona against england
Anotándote two goals
Am I holding my flag
The backbone of the planet is my mountain

I am what my father taught me
He who does not love her country
No mother wants her
I latin america
A people without legs but walking

You can not buy the wind,
You can not buy the sun
You can not buy the rain,
You can not buy the heat
You can not buy the clouds,
You can not buy the colors
You can not buy my happiness,
You can not buy my pain

I have the lakes, I have the rivers
I have my teeth pa 'when I smile
The snow that makes up my mountains
I have the sun dry me and the rain washes me

A drunk with peyote desert
A drink of pulque to sing with the coyotes
All I need
I have my lungs breathing light blue

The height that stifles
I am the teeth in my mouth, chewing coca
The leaves fall with unconsciousness
Verses written under the starry night

A vineyard full of grapes
A cane in the sun in Cuba
I'm watching the Caribbean Sea to the cottages
By holy water ritual

The wind was combing my hair
I'm all saints hanging from my neck
The juice of my struggle is not artificial
Because the payment of my land is natural


You can not buy the wind,
You can not buy the sun
You can not buy the rain,
You can not buy the heat
You can not buy the clouds,
You can not buy the colors
You can not buy my happiness,
You can not buy my pain

Gross but proudly work
Here we share, mine is yours
These people do not drown by Marullo
And if it collapses, I rebuilt it

Nor blink when I look
For you to remember my name
Operation Condor invading my nest
I forgive but never forget

We walk
Here, you will fight
We walk
I sing because you hear

We draw the path
We stand
We walk
Here we stand

Victor Farinelli said...

Lindo!! Poesia pura!! Nos versos, nas imagens, na melodia, na beleza das pessoas e da humanidade da gente que ainda resiste às mazelas de tantos séculos de exploração, com a mesma esperança de quando chegaram as caravelas européias. América Latina é minha nação!!