Why your aching step
from north to south,
the foot that didn't know
the foot that didn't know
about laughs or light?
Your father leaves the land
of Tacuarembó
looking for his land,
a land of his,
and he never found it.
He finds th sad garbage
where a thousand people live,
he finds the death,
he finds the silence
of that shanty town.
The Bow-legged, round eyes
without chalkboard,
looking at his mother,
looking at his brother,
he learns about pain.
The moon, week by week,
saw him wander
loaded of foam,
looking for a shore
like looking for the sea.
The Bow-legged doesn't know about shores
doesn't know about seas,
he knows about anger,
anger that aims
and doesn't want to kill.
He robs the bank and shares
with the shanty town,
like before with hunger
like before with hunger
he shares the loot.
This way I sing the story
of the Bow-legged Maciel,
the siren sounds,
the siren sounds,
they're coming for him.
The news publish two bullets,
are ten or a thousand,
a thousand eyes watching,
a thousand eyes watching
from the shanty town.
The Bow-legged was a uruguayan
from Tacuarembó
with aching step,
with aching step,
with aching step.
Let the bow-legged get together,
get their feet together,
and then walk looking for the homeland,
everyone's homeland, Maciel's homeland,
this bow-legged homeland that they won't twist
with hard chains the feet together
we will succeed.