Keny Arkana - Victoria - текст песни, слова, перевод, видео

My name is Victoria, I was born 14 Visen back,

In the village not far from Salta, where I lived before.

And for 10 years as with Pope and Mom, we left our fields with brothers and sisters.

We came to be crowded into one of these hibars at the entrance to the city.

This dad built her, but it is not finished yet.

And I have only a sea of ​​memories of the village.

Mom cries when I tell me, because she does not like this life here.

Foreigners burned our homes to drive us out of our lands.

Dad is constantly nervous, and I do not understand why he speaks about agriculture.

He says that politicians, they are all traitors who sow fear and that they have a stomach instead of the heart.

There is no work here, our prayers remain untouched.

After classes and my sister, we sell bracelets on 2 pesos.

But, despite all efforts, we have nothing.

At night, Mom cries, at night she is not sleeping.

Chorus in Spanish.

My neighbor says that during the dictator times it was even harder

Then I will not complain if there is no future here.

And I really like learning, I was told that study is good, but it is useless,

Here, many threw this business, without even learning to write.

In my secret garden I dream that I would be a doctor.

I will treat all these sick children who are hungry, but do not eat.

I do not understand, in the city I see often these babies who go beyond the hand with the contempt of these "good people."

I ask myself, really they do not see poverty? They trample us to bless a person from another hemisphere.

Dad says that they treat us as dogs. Lord Thank you that I have a family, because full of orphans who live quite alone.

Sometimes I have a little cry with secret, because I think about my older brothers who have already been lucky enough to hear the song of automata.

Moreover, my grandmother always said that life is hope, if you lose it, then you are dead.

Chorus in Spanish.

Dad reached the extreme, he shouted when one day he learned that the bank stole all his savings.

Helpless, he was not alone, everyone was crazy, this is a whole nation that allowed himself to steal.

From this day, with other citizens, he blocks the road to block the country's economy.

This is his manner to hear him, but, for example, I'm scared when it leaves, there are those who are not returned, the police is cruel.

They call them picketers, and newspapers lie, they say that these are gangsters and people are afraid of them.

Dad says: "They can kill people, but they will not kill the memory, the mothers of the dead will never forget."

We eat the fruit of a failed democracy in a rich country, the heap of children in the belly is only a cup of mate.

Because we are managed by criminal mafia.

And I do not understand and when I ask why, I always answer me: "Because we are in Argentina!"

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