(recitation)
The neighborhood troubadour tuned his guitar,
and before the circle in that tavern,
old memories he began to unfold
and this milonga he sang.
We called you brave and daring
Mano Brava,
and today that nickname
I come to reclaim from you…
Because you’ve never again returned to that neighborhood,
hey Mano Brava…
I’m your ‘godfather’ speaking to you…
I am the past…
The firebrand mark from the neighborhood remains with you
and, whether you want it or not, you’ll always hear
the distant voice of the police
asking where have you been?
I know you’ve stood your ground in France and New York
with well-groomed cards,
I know you have for poker, more than enough,
your sharpened fingers…
(recitation)
Who more, who less, all bowed their heads
lingering in this remembrance,
and continuing with the Song of the Dock
the singer’s voice was heard again:
Here is your tavern waiting for you
to confront you
with clear accounts
for your ungrateful conduct…
What are you waiting for to return and embrace,
hey Mano Brava,
the youth that gave you
name and fame…