El Chueco Maciel

Why does your painful step
from north to south,
the foot that didn't know,
the foot that didn't know
of laughter or light?

Your father leaves the land
of Tacuarembó
searching for his land,
his own land,
and never found it.

He finds the sad garbage
where a thousand live,
he finds death,
he finds the silence
of that shantytown.

The Crooked one, eyes round
and without a blackboard,
looking at his mother,
looking at his brother,
learns the pain.

The moon, week after week,
has seen him wander
armed with foam,
looking for a shore
like the sea searches.

The Crooked one doesn't know about shores
or about the sea,
he knows about anger,
anger that aims
and doesn't want to kill.

He robs the bank and shares
with the shantytown,
like hunger before,
like hunger before,
shares the loot.

So I sing to you the story
of Crooked Maciel,
the siren sounds,
the siren sounds,
they're coming for him.

The newspapers publish two bullets,
are they ten or a thousand,
a thousand eyes watching,
a thousand eyes watching
from the shantytown.

The crooked one was a Uruguayan
from Tacuarembó,
with a painful step,
with a painful step,
with a painful step.

The crooked ones gather their feet closely,
feet closely together,
and then walk seeking the homeland,
the homeland of all, the Maciel homeland,
this crooked homeland that they won't twist
with harsh chains all feet together
we shall overcome.