El gran varón [English translation]
El gran varón [English translation]
In the hospital room
at 9:43
Simon was born.
It's the summer of '56
the pride of Don Andres
because he was a boy.
He was raised just like the others
with a harsh hand with severity
he never expressed his own thoughts.
When you grow up you're going to study
the same things as your father
listen well
you need to be
a great man.
Simon went abroad
faraway from home he forgot that sermon,
he changed the way he walked
he wore a skirt, lipstick
and a purse.
The people say that one day the father
went to visit him without warning him in advance,
well, what a mistake.
A woman spoke to him when he was passing on by
and told him hello, how's it going father what's up?
you don't recognize me, I am Simon
Simon your son,
the great man
CHORUS:
You can't correct nature
a stick that's born twisted never straightens out its trunk. (3x)
He let himself be carried away
what the people say
his father never spoke to him
he abandoned him forever.
You can't correct nature
a stick that's born twisted never straightens out its trunk.
Don't complain Andres
don't complain about anything
if from the sky lemons fall
learn to make lemonade.
You can't correct nature
a stick that's born twisted never straightens out its trunk.
And while the years pass
the old man yielding a little bit
Simon didn't even write to him anymore
Andres was furious.
You can't correct nature
a stick that's born twisted never straightens out its trunk.
At last there was news
of where his son was
Andres never forgot the day
of that sad phone call.
la, la, la, le, le . . . la, la, la, le, le, le (2x)
In the hospital room
from a strange sickness Simon died
it's the summer of '86
nobody cried for the sick man in bed no. 10
Simon Simoooon Simon
You can't correct nature
a stick that's born twisted never straightens out its trunk.
You need to have compassion
the moral is enough:
he who is free of sin
throw the first stone.
You can't correct nature
a stick that's born twisted never straightens out its trunk.
He who never forgives
has a certain destiny
of reliving sour memories
in their own hell.
You can't correct nature
a stick that's born twisted never straightens out its trunk.
la, la, la, le, le . . . la, la, la, le, le, le (2x)
- Artist:Willie Colón
- Album:Top Secrets (1989)