El cascanueces [English translation]

I'm going to sing to you the Miniature overture

of The Nutcracker by Tchaikovsky, a composer

that to many, by different type of reasons,

he doesn't convince them, they say he's an inferior musician,

but others, on the contrary, don't get tired of making

choreographies of his works, for the pleasure

of the audience, who runs in a hurry to reserve

places for all the ballet plays,

I want a box to watch "The swan lake"

and another for "The sleeping beauty" and give me for when they play

my favorite, "The Nutcracker", I don't wanna miss

the Sugar Plum Fairy and I die specially

with that scene of that typical dance from I don't know where,

which Russia region nor if they keep dancing like that,

but I like, and I also like

that another scene of the Nutcracker where...

Three flutists play together, and sound like that,

it's precious, you don't say that it isn't

because I kill you, nobody can be so

cold and insensitive to not understand

this happy and simple melody that lasted,

with its tireless brilliance and its candor,

for generations and generations

of simple-minded who grew with an illusion

that never came true, maybe it was just a dream

but I'm sure that will come the...

Day in which the science will achieve to reach

a level of brilliance for achieving

to transform this rhymeless and reasonless world into a song;

And if isn't the physic science

the one that will make the transformation,

it will have to be the social science,

even if it's only in a figurative sense,

but that is worthless, it's not what we wanted,

it always happens the same,

they announce a sensational title,

and then it happens that everything is

a simple rhetorical trick,

all is a metaphor, you start looking

for a real nutcracker

and instead of that they give

a ballbreaking dancer who wants

to pretend to be... a nutcracker

but you know that he isn't,

though is a sign of adulthood

to behave like if really

what you see this time is a nutcracker

and also when a little after

comes the final part,

the ones who dance the so called Waltz of the flowers,

are not violets neither wallflower buds,

there are no geraniums nor a carnation,

not even laurel flowers,

there is no ceibo flower, and I fear,

no chrysanthemum, no tulips,

no, there isn't any jazmin, nor garden magnolias,

there's no damn fleur de lis,

and no matter how much you force the nose

you can't feel any smell of any flower,

the only thing that comes from the stage

is a stink that the dancers

give you by accident because they can't take any more,

of jumping and somersaulting so much, they smell like a skunk

and on first row you can't handle it, you get up

and go home in a cab

to listen to the CD...

while you're gaining concentration,

the imagination dusts off

and you start to discern the real nutcracker

so many times summoned and who finally, like an angel,

comes out of the closet of the saying,

"we'll play until the morning" but he

wasn't coming out of the closet, while you,

nobody can stop you, nor between two,

your two aunts can't stop you,

the vision of the nutcracker drives you mad,

turns you into a human hurricane

who knocks everybody down, nobody can stop you,

all the neighbors chase you

with their dogs barking at you,

and also the ambulances

that came to take you to the hospital,

if they can get you,

be careful because if they get you,

they catch you, your adventure is over

and you have no cure,

the nutcracker no longer appears

and you remain in a time shell

with the keys in power of the tax collecting office

and you can't open it anymore.