Ser un emigrante es mi deporte (being an immigrant is my sport)

There is a band I really love called Calle 13. Their songs really speak to me. There is a song called Pal’Norte (I go up North) that talks about the process of becoming an immigrant and crossing the Mexico-US (Latin America-US) border. Even though I am not an “illegal” immigrant to the US, and my experience has been rather smooth in Canada, there are definitely some verses that I identify with. I find that figuring out my cultural identity is an issue that I have a hard time dealing with. I feel trapped in the middle between a “Latino”/Central American culture and a North American culture. So weird. 

There is not a huge latino community in Toronto but I am expecting to (hopefully) meet a lot of people who identify themselves as latino in New York.

I’ve posted the video and the lyrics (in both Spanish and English) below. It was so hard to translate, but whatever. Enjoy!

Lyrics

Unas piernas que respiran… veneno de serpiente…
por el camino del viento… voy soplando agua ardienteEl día había comenzado entusiasmado y alegre

Dice… Pasaporte!

-Adonde va por hay, en esta noche tan fea?
– Usted no se anima?
– Mire como esta el camino… anegaiiito
– No, el camino es lo de menos… lo importante es llegarlo

[Estribillo:]x2

Tengo tu antídoto…
Pal’ que no tiene identidad
Somos idénticos…
Pal’ que llegó sin avisar
Tengo tu antílico…
Para los que ya no están 
para los que están
y los que vienen

Un nómada sin rumbo
la energía negativa yo la derrumbo,
Con mis pezuñas de cordero

Me propuse recorrer el continente entero
Sin brújula, sin tiempo, sin agenda…
Inspirado por las leyendas
Por historias empaquetadas en lata, Por los cuentos que la luna relata

Aprendí a caminar sin mapa…
A irme de caminata sin comodidades, sin lujo…
Protegido por los santos y los brujos…

Aprendí a escribir cabronerías en mi libreta
Y con un mismo idioma sacudir todo el planeta…

Aprendí que mi pueblo todavía reza Porque las “fucking” autoridades y la puta realeza…
Todavía se mueven por debajo de la mesa…
Aprendí a tragarme la depresión con cerveza…

Mis patronos yo lo escupo desde las montañas
Y con mi propia saliva enveneno su champaña…
Enveneno su champaña…

Sigo tomando ron…

[Estribillo]

En tu sonrisa yo veo una guerrilla, una aventura un movimiento…
Tu lenguaje, tu acento…
Yo quiero descubrir lo que ya estaba descubierto…

Ser un emigrante ese es mi deporte…
Hoy me voy pal’ norte sin pasaporte, Sin transporte…
A pie, con las patas…
Pero no importa este hombre se hidrata
Con lo que retratan mis pupilas…

Cargo con un par de paisajes en mi mochila, cargo con vitamina de clorofila, cargo con un rosario que me vigila…

Sueno con cruzar el meridiano, resbalando por las cuerdas del cuatro de Aureliano…
Y llegarle tempranito temprano a la orilla…
por el desierto con los pies a la parrilla…

Por debajo de la tierra como las ardillas,
Yo vo’a cruzar la muralla…
Yo soy un intruso con identidad de recluso…
Y por eso me convierto en buzo…
Y buceo por debajo de la tierra…

Pa’ que no me vean los guardias y los perros no me huelan…
Abuela no se preocupe que en mi cuello cuelga la virgen de la Guadalupe…

Oye para todos los emigrantes del mundo entero… alla va eso… Calle 13

[Estribillo] (x2)

Esta producción artístico-cultural hecha con cariño y con esfuerzo sea como un llamado de voluntad y esperanza para todos, todos…

Legs that can breath… the snake’s venom…
I go exhaling agua ardiente (type of alcohol)… along the wind’s path …The day had begun enthusiastic and joyful

He says… Passport!

– Where are you going on this terrible night?
– Are you not up for it?
– Look at the road… completely flooded
– The road doesn’t matter, what matters is to complete it

[Chorus:]x2

I have your antidote…
Those with no identity
We are identical…
Those who came without warning
I have your antilico (ethyl)…
Those who are not here anymore,
Those who are,
And to those who are coming

A nomad without a path
I bring down negative energies,
With my lamb hoofs

I decided to walk the entire continent
No compass, no time, no agenda
Inspired by legends,
By the stories packaged in tin cans,
By the stories that the moon narrates

I learnt how to walk with no map
To go on hikes without comforts, without luxuries…
Protected by saints and sorcerers…

I learnt to write vulgarities in my notebook
And with one single language shake up the entire planet…

I learnt that my people still pray Because of the fucking authorities and the fucking royalty…
They still move under the table…
I learnt to ease down my depression with beer…

I spit at my bosses from the mountains
And I poison the champagne with  my own spit
I poison their champagne…

I keep drinking rum…

[Chorus] (x2)

In your smile I see an entire guerrilla,
An adventure, a single movement…
Your language, your accent…
I want to discover what has already been discovered…

Being an immigrant is my sport…
Today I’m going up North with no passport,
No transportation…
By foot, with my legs…
But it doesn’t matter this man gets hydrated
With whatever my pupils picture

I carry a few landscapes in my knapsack,
I carry chlorophyll tablets,
I carry a rosary that looks out for me…

I dream with crossing the meridian, tripping over the strings of Aureliano’s quatro…
Arrive to the border early…
through the desert with my grilled feet…

Underground like squirrels,
I’m crossing the great wall…
I’m an intruder with the mentality of a prisoner
I become a diver…
And I dive underneath the soil…

To not be seen by the guards or smelled by the dogs…
Grandma don’t worry because the virgin of Guadalupe hangs from my neck…

For every immigrant around the world… This is for you… Calle 13

[Chorus] (x2)

Let this this artistic-cultural production, done with much love and effort, be a call for action and hope for everyone, everyone…

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2 thoughts on “Ser un emigrante es mi deporte (being an immigrant is my sport)

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