Caramba caramba
Francisco Alberto, caramba
Mi comandante te hiciste
Te hiciste el muerto en la sierra
Se lo creyeron, que bueno!
Francisco Alberto, ¡caramba!
Ellos contaron el cuento
Francisco Alberto
Y ellos no lo creyeron
Que tu te has ido no es cierto
Tu estas viviendo en el pueblo
Francisco Alberto
Te sembraste en las montañas
Francisco Alberto, me alegro!
Y engañaste los de arriba
Los generales y el miedo
Francisco Alberto, me alegro
Francisco Alberto, ¡caramba!
Media isla
En la zozobra del luto y de la sangre
Media isla
Y la presencia centenaria de los yanquis
Media isla
Media isla bañada de febrero en Caracoles
Francisco Alberto, Peña Jáquez, Galán
Claudio, Pérez Vargas, Hamlet, Payero Ulloa
Holguín Marte y Lalane
Dijeron que estabas muerto
Francisco Alberto, caramba
Y que en un sitio ignorado
Enterraron tu fusil
Francisco Alberto, y tu cuerpo
Francisco Alberto, ¡caramba!
Ellos contaron el cuento
Francisco Alberto
Y ellos no lo creyeron
Que tu te has ido no es cierto
Tu estas viviendo en el pueblo
Francisco Alberto
Francisco Alberto
Mira tu pueblo
Hoy tu gesto es su alimento
Ya no hay miedo ni silencio
Y están siguiendo tu ejemplo
Francisco Alberto, ¡caramba!
Francisco Alberto, caramba
Mi comandante te hiciste
Te hiciste el muerto en la sierra
Se lo creyeron, que bueno!
Francisco Alberto, ¡caramba!
Ellos contaron el cuento
Francisco Alberto
Y ellos no lo creyeron
Que tu te has ido no es cierto
Tu estas viviendo en el pueblo
Francisco Alberto
Te sembraste en las montañas
Francisco Alberto, me alegro!
Y engañaste los de arriba
Los generales y el miedo
Francisco Alberto, me alegro
Francisco Alberto, ¡caramba!
Media isla
En la zozobra del luto y de la sangre
Media isla
Y la presencia centenaria de los yanquis
Media isla
Media isla bañada de febrero en Caracoles
Francisco Alberto, Peña Jáquez, Galán
Claudio, Pérez Vargas, Hamlet, Payero Ulloa
Holguín Marte y Lalane
Dijeron que estabas muerto
Francisco Alberto, caramba
Y que en un sitio ignorado
Enterraron tu fusil
Francisco Alberto, y tu cuerpo
Francisco Alberto, ¡caramba!
Ellos contaron el cuento
Francisco Alberto
Y ellos no lo creyeron
Que tu te has ido no es cierto
Tu estas viviendo en el pueblo
Francisco Alberto
Francisco Alberto
Mira tu pueblo
Hoy tu gesto es su alimento
Ya no hay miedo ni silencio
Y están siguiendo tu ejemplo
Francisco Alberto, ¡caramba!
inviata da Alessandro - 20/1/2010 - 13:37
Lingua: Inglese
Traduzione inglese di Laura Engler Perez dal libretto che accompagna l’album.
FRANCISO ALBERTO, CARAMBA!
Caramba, caramba,
Francisco Alberto, caramba!
My commander, you feigned death.
You feigned death in the Sierra.
That they believed it, well. alright!
Francisco Alberto, caramba!
They told the story,
Francisco Alberto,
and the people did not believe it.
That you left is not true.
You are living in the people.
Francisco Alberto, caramba!
You sowed your seeds in the mountains,
Francisco Alberto. I’m happy.
And you deceived those over us,
the generals and the fear.
Francisco Alberto, I’m happy.
Francisco Alberto, caramba!
Half an island sinking in sorrow
and blood,
half an island, and a century of Yanqui
presence.
Half an island, half an island bathed
in February, and in snail shells.
Francisco Alberto, Pena Jaquez.
Galan, Claudio, Perez Vargas,
Hamlet, Payero Ulloa,
Holguin Marte y Lalane.
They said you were dead,
Francisco Alberto, carambal
And that in an unknown place
they buried your gun,
Francisco Alberto, and also your body.
Francisco Alberto, caramba!
They told the story. . . .
Francisco Alberto,
Look at your people.
Today, your deeds are their daily bread.
There is neither fear nor silence.
Already they are following your example.
Francisco Alberto, caramba!
Caramba, caramba,
Francisco Alberto, caramba!
My commander, you feigned death.
You feigned death in the Sierra.
That they believed it, well. alright!
Francisco Alberto, caramba!
They told the story,
Francisco Alberto,
and the people did not believe it.
That you left is not true.
You are living in the people.
Francisco Alberto, caramba!
You sowed your seeds in the mountains,
Francisco Alberto. I’m happy.
And you deceived those over us,
the generals and the fear.
Francisco Alberto, I’m happy.
Francisco Alberto, caramba!
Half an island sinking in sorrow
and blood,
half an island, and a century of Yanqui
presence.
Half an island, half an island bathed
in February, and in snail shells.
Francisco Alberto, Pena Jaquez.
Galan, Claudio, Perez Vargas,
Hamlet, Payero Ulloa,
Holguin Marte y Lalane.
They said you were dead,
Francisco Alberto, carambal
And that in an unknown place
they buried your gun,
Francisco Alberto, and also your body.
Francisco Alberto, caramba!
They told the story. . . .
Francisco Alberto,
Look at your people.
Today, your deeds are their daily bread.
There is neither fear nor silence.
Already they are following your example.
Francisco Alberto, caramba!
inviata da Alessandro - 25/2/2010 - 16:05
×
![]()
Album "Dominican Republic: La Hora Esta Llegando! The Time Is Coming" (Paredon Records)
Letra: Chico Gonzales
Musica: Ramón Leonardo
Francisco Alberto Caamaño Deñó, il "Comandante Román", è stato un militare e rivoluzionario dominicano, protagonista della rivoluzione dell’aprile 1965 subito stroncata, nel giugno dello stesso anno, dall’intervento militare nord-americano con l’obiettivo di imporre, sotto la minaccia delle armi e attraverso finte elezioni, un presidente gradito alla Casa Bianca e individuato in Joaquín Balaguer. Sotto la presidenza Balaguer (1966-1978) la repressione contro l’opposizione di sinistra e rivoluzionaria fu molto forte e numerosi furono gli omicidi politici. Nel 1973 Francisco Alberto Caamaño, stanco di assistere impotente dal suo esilio londinese alla mattanza dei suoi compagni, decise di rientrare clandestinamente a Santo Domingo per aprire un fronte di guerriglia contro il governo Balaguer. Non ebbe fortuna. Fu catturato dall’esercito e assassinato, benchè la versione ufficiale fu che fosse caduto in combattimento insieme ad altri sei compagni.
Il carisma, la vita spesa nella lotta e le circostanze della sua morte fecero subito di Francisco Alberto Caamaño un eroe popolare che, al pari di Zapata o del Che Guevara, la gente credeva non fosse morto affatto.