Non English Lyrics, Hopefully With Translations

Is there a translation available for this?


Zuzu Zapata
Amor Cruel

Amor cruel
Por que esse jogo
Pra que tantos planos
Por que nos esquivarmos tanto
Por que tanta tirania e tanta confusão?

Poderíamos viver um dia normal
Mas você insiste em se esconder
Atrás de fantasias e mascaras
Guarde as suas armas
Jogue fora as incertezas
Eu só quero um dia tranqüilo ao seu lado

Amor cruel
Por que tantas brigas
Tantas mentiras
Mostre-me seu lindo rosto
Permita-me acalmar seu espírito
Há tantas regras, tantas linhas a serem seguidas.
A nossa música agora é suja e agressiva

Poderíamos viver um dia normal
Mas você insiste em se esconder
Atrás de fantasias e mascaras
Guarde as suas armas
Jogue fora as incertezas
Eu só quero um dia tranqüilo ao seu lado

Nice thread.
I'll start a tour through some of my favorite lyrics.

First of all, Violeta Parra (Chile), a passionate woman:

GRACIAS A LA VIDA
Gracias a la vida que me ha dado tanto.
Me dio dos luceros que, cuando los abro,
perfecto distingo lo negro del blanco,
y en el alto cielo su fondo estrellado
y en las multitudes el hombre que yo amo.

Gracias a la vida que me ha dado tanto.
Me ha dado el oído que, en todo su ancho,
graba noche y día grillos y canarios;
martillos, turbinas, ladridos, chubascos,
y la voz tan tierna de mi bien amado.

Gracias a la vida que me ha dado tanto.
Me ha dado el sonido y el abecedario,
con él las palabras que pienso y declaro:
madre, amigo, hermano, y luz alumbrando
la ruta del alma del que estoy amando.

Gracias a la vida que me ha dado tanto.
Me ha dado la marcha de mis pies cansados;
con ellos anduve ciudades y charcos,
playas y desiertos, montañas y llanos,
y la casa tuya, tu calle y tu patio.

Gracias a la vida que me ha dado tanto.
Me dio el corazón que agita su marco
cuando miro el fruto del cerebro humano;
cuando miro el bueno tan lejos del malo,
cuando miro el fondo de tus ojos claros.

Gracias a la vida que me ha dado tanto.
Me ha dado la risa y me ha dado el llanto.
Así yo distingo dicha de quebranto,
los dos materiales que forman mi canto,
y el canto de ustedes que es el mismo canto
y el canto de todos, que es mi propio canto.

Gracias a la vida que me ha dado tanto.

(1964-1965)

I THANK LIFE


I thank life that has given me so much.
It gave me two morning stars that, when I open them,
I perfectly distinguish black from white,
and in the high skies it's starred background
and in the multitudes the man that I love.

I thank life that has given me so much.
It has given me hearing that, in all its encompassing
records night and day crickets and canaries;
hammers, turbines, barks, rainstorms
and the so tender voice of my beloved.

I thank life that has given me so much.
It has given me the sound and the alphabet,
with it the words I think and declare:
mother, friend, brother and shining light,
the route of the soul of the one I'm loving.

I thank life that has given me so much.
It has given the march of my tired feet;
with them I waked cities and ponds,
beaches and deserts, mountains and plains,
and your house, your street and your patio.

I thank life that has given me so much.
It gave me the heart that shivers in its frame
when I look at the fruits of human brain;
when I see the good so far away from the bad,
when I see the bottom of your clear eyes.

I thank life that has given me so much.
It has given me laughter and it has given been tears.
Thus I distinguish bliss from pain,
the two materials that form my singing,
and your singing that is the same singing
and everybody's singing, which is my own.

I thank life that has given me so much.


Do you want to hear it? (song by the great Argentinian Mercedes Sosa)



Gracias a la Vida - Mercedes Sosa - youtube

Thanks, fbaezer. I am happy to see this thread still going.

Yes, Violeta Parra was a passionate woman. In love and in hatred.

MALDIGO DEL ALTO CIELO

Maldigo del alto cielo
La estrella con su reflejo
Maldigo los azulejos
Destellos del arroyuelo
Maldigo del bajo suelo
La piedra con su contorno
Maldigo el fuego del horno
Porque mi alma está de luto
Maldigo los estatutos
Del tiempo con sus bochornos
Cuánto será mi dolor.

Maldigo la cordillera
De los andes y de la costa
Maldigo señor la angosta
Y larga faja de tierra
También la paz y la guerra
Lo franco y lo veleidoso
Maldigo lo perfumoso
Porque mi anhelo está muerto
Maldigo todo lo cierto
Y lo falso con lo dudoso
Cuánto será mi dolor.

Maldigo la primavera
Con sus jardines en flor
Y del otoño el color
Yo lo maldigo de veras
A la nube pasajera
La maldigo tanto y tanto
Porque me asiste un quebranto
Maldigo el invierno entero
Con el verano embustero
Maldigo profano y santo
Cuánto será mi dolor.

Maldigo a la solitaria
Figura de la bandera
Maldigo cualquier emblema
La venus y la araucaria
El trino de la canaria
El cosmo y sus planetas
La tierra y todas sus grietas
Porque me aqueja un pesar
Maldigo del ancho mar
Sus puertos y sus caletas
Cuánto será mi dolor.

Maldigo luna y paisaje
Los valles y los desiertos
Maldigo muerto por muerto
Y al vivo de rey a paje
Al ave con su plumaje
Yo la maldigo a porfia
Las aulas , las sacrsitias
Porque me aflije un dolor
Maldigo el vocablo amor
Con toda su porquería
Cuánto será mi dolor.

Maldigo por fin lo blanco
Lo negro con lo amarillo
Obispos y monaguillos
Ministros y predicantes
Yo los maldigo llorando
Lo libre y lo prisionero
Lo dulce y lo pendenciero
Le pongo mi maldición
En griego y español
Por culpa de un traicionero
Cuánto será mi dolor.


I DAMN FROM THE HIGH HEAVEN

I damn from the high heaven
the star with its reflection
I damn the blueish
sparkles from the creek
I damn from the low earth
the stone with its contour
I damn the fire in the oven
because my soul is in mourning.
I damn the statutes
of time with its blushes
How big my pain should be!

I damn the mountains
of the Andes, and the coast.
I damn, my lord, the narrow
and long bank of land.
Also peace and war,
frankness and vanity.
I damn anything scented
because my desire is dead
I damn everything that's certain
and the false with the doubtful
How big my pain should be!

I damn spring
with its flowered gardens
And of autumn I damn the color.
I truly damn it.
And the passing cloud
I damn it so much!
Because a pain assists me.
I damn the whole winter
with the tricky summer
I damn profane and saintly.
How big my pain should be!

I damn the lonely
figure in the flag
I damn any symbol:
Venus and the Araucaria
the sound of the female canary
the cosmos and its planets,
Earth, and all its cracks
because a pain fell on me.
I damn the wide sea
its ports and its bays
How big my pain should be!

I damn moon and landscape,
valleys and deserts
I damn dead after dead
and those living, from king to page
The bird with its feathers
I confidently damn them.
Classrooms, churchrooms,
because a pain afflixes me
I damn the word love
with all its crap
How big my pain should be!

I finally damn the white
the black with the yellow,
bishops and churchboys
ministers and preachers
I damn them crying.
The free and the imprisoned,
the sweet and the bullyish
I put my damning on them.
In Greek and in Spanish
because of a treacherous man.
How big my pain should be!


After she wrote this song, Violeta Parra committed suicide.


Maldigo del Alto Cielo, sung by Javiera Parra, Violeta's grandaughter

Got any more, fbaezer?

Cuidao con la leña verde
que en humo te ha de envolver
se te hay gastar el yesquero
sin que la puedas prender!


GREEN WOOD

Men go through life
each one with his horizon,
some go with a definite route,
others go where the wind blows

Some are only a big smoke,
green weeds of the mountain;
others burn their fires
in their quiet furnaces

Dry, burnable, wood
must always be lit,
furnace of a good live coal,
it's a pleasure to see it burn!

Be careful with the green wood,
it shall surround you with smoke,
your tinderbox will be spent
and you won't be able to fire it!

I love love LOVE Mercedes Sosa, and her version of Gracias a la vida. Also the song that has the the com la mosquite a la piedra and como la cigara (i don't speak spanish, thus excuse my french based spelling)...


Now for mine:
From movie Patita (1953): Yaad Kiya Dil ne, Kahan ho tum?

Hemant:
Yaad kiya dil ne kahaan ho tum
Jhoomti bahaar hai kahaan ho tum
Lata:
Pyaar se pukaar lo jahaan ho tum -2
(repeat)

Hemant: O, kho rahe ho aaj kis khayal mein
Lata: O, dil fasaa hai bebasi ke jaal mein
(repeat)
Lata: Matlabi jahaan meherbaan ho tum
Hemant: Yaad kiya dil ne kahaan ho tum
Lata: Pyaar se pukaar lo jahaan ho tum -2

Hemant: O, raat dhal chuki hai subah ho gayi
Lata: O, main tumhaari yaad leke kho gayi
(repeat)
Lata: Ab to meri daastaan ho tum
Hemant: Yaad kiya dil ne kahaan ho tum
Lata: Pyaar se pukaar lo jahaan ho tum -2

Hemant: O, tum humaari zindagi ke baag ho
Lata: O, tum humaari raah ke charaag ho
(repeat)
Lata: Mere liye aasmaan ho tum
Hemant: Yaad kiya dil ne kahaan ho tum
Lata: Pyaar se pukaar lo jahaan ho tum -2
Hemant: Hm mm mm, mm mm mm
Lata: Hm mm mm, mm mm mm
Hemant: Hm mm mm, mm mm mm
Lata: Hm mm mm, mm mm mm

I can only offer translation of the first verse, which I got help with on my learning Hindi thread:
My heart remembers, where are you?
It's so lovely outside, where are you?
Call on me love, from wherever you are
Call on me love, from wherever you are.

Argentina, eh?

This next song is actually the one I've sung the last times I've been to a karaoke. It's not a big hit among my peers.

Volver - Carlos Gardel

Yo adivino el parpadeo
de las luces que a lo lejos
van marcando mi retorno.

Son las mismas que alumbraron
con sus pálidos reflejos
hondas horas de dolor.

Y aunque no quise el regreso
siempre se vuelve
al primer amor.

La vieja calle
donde me cobijo
tuya es su vida
tuyo es su querer.

Bajo el burlón
mirar de las estrellas
que con indiferencia
hoy me ven volver.

Volver
con la frente marchita
las nieves del tiempo
platearon mi sien.

Sentir
que es un soplo la vida
que veinte años no es nada
que febril la mirada
errante en las sombras
te busca y te nombra.

Vivir
con el alma aferrada
a un dulce recuerdo
que lloro otra vez.

Tengo miedo del encuentro
con el pasado que vuelve
a enfrentarse con mi vida.

Tengo miedo de las noches
que pobladas de recuerdos
encadenen mi soñar.

Pero el viajero que huye
tarde o temprano
detiene su andar.

Y aunque el olvido
que todo destruye
haya matado mi vieja ilusión,

guardo escondida
una esperanza humilde
que es toda la fortuna
de mi corazón.

Volver
con la frente marchita
las nieves del tiempo
platearon mi sien.

Sentir
que es un soplo la vida
que veinte años no es nada
que febril la mirada
errante en las sombras
te busca y te nombra.

Vivir
con el alma aferrada
a un dulce recuerdo
que lloro otra vez.

======================

Volver - Carlos Gardel

I spot the blinking
of the lights that afar
mark down my return.

They are the same ones that lighted
with their pale reflections
profound hours of pain.

And even though I didn't want the return
one always comes back
to the first love.

The old street
where the echo said
yours is her life
yours is her love.

Under the mocking
watch of the stars
who with indifference
they see me come back today

To return
with a forehead that's withered
the snows of time
silvered my temple.

To feel
that life is a breath
that twenty years is nothing
that a febrile gaze,
errant in the shadows,
searches and gives you a name

To live
with the soul anchored
to a sweet memory
that I cry once more.

I'm afraid of the encounter
with the past that returns
to confront my life.

I'm afraid that the nights
populated with remembrance
will chain my dream.

But the traveler that flees
now or later
stops his going.

And even though oblivion,
who destroys everything,
has killed my old illusion,

I keep hidden
a humble hope
that is all the fortune
of my heart

To return
with a forehead that's withered
the snows of time
silvered my temple.

To feel
that life is a breath
that twenty years is nothing
that a febrile gaze
errant in the shadows
searches and names you

To live
with the soul anchored
to a sweet memory
that I cry once more.

Argentina is a part of the world I feel I should learn more about. Thanks for the songs.

A bit more about Argentina (this is Argentinian Rock, best seller in 2002)

LA CASA DESAPARECIDA

Fito Paez

Madre ponme en la chaqueta las medallas
los zapatos ya no me los puedo poner
mis dos piernas se quedaron en Malvinas
El mal vino no me deja reponer de la nítida y oscura pesadilla
de Valeria Mazza besando al cordobés
que murió estaqueado, solo, entre los cuervos desangrado
En Resistencia aquí en los dos de abriles brindamos por él

Argentinos, argentinos
Que destino mi amigo, argentinos
nadie sabe responder
Argentinos, argentinos
caminando siempre al lado del camino
la ventaja de no pertenecer

Abrazada en la tribuna con cualquiera
cuando Boca está en mi boca
en mi boca de mujer
Entre el tetra hirviendo, el porro y las anfetas
dale Boca, dale Boca, dale Boca
dale Boca tenga fe
que la guerra está perdida y de esto ya hace tiempo
y esto todos lo sabemos, que le vamos a hacer
Te regalo la bombacha transpirada
si hoy ganamos la copa 4 a 3

Argentina, Argentina
que pasó en la Argentina
es la casa desaparecida
Argentina, Argentina
bienvenidos a casa Argentina,
a la desaparecida

Soy paragua de la villa 21
yo te la mamo, yo te hago todo lo que vos querés
El sargento Ibarra se me ha enamorado
los domingos paga el whisky y el hotel
y yo le robo la pistola cuando duerme
y me voy a Godoy Cruz, a Godoy Cruz y Santa Fe
a cuidar de la Ramona y de los pibes
que te besan, te roban, te cuidan entre las vías del tren

Entre Rosas y Sarmiento, Don Segundo y Martín Fierro
la barbarie y los modales europeos
el país de los inventos, Maradona,
los misterios del lenguaje metafísico del gran resentimiento
Bienvenidos inmigrantes a este paraíso errante
ya se sabe que el que no arriesga no gana
Y esa casa que dejaron escapando entre las balas
era el caldo del cultivo a la nostalgia
En el reino del silencio cavernario de oropeles
un concilio de miserias, de rodilla en los cuarteles
Y hubo una fiesta de todos, embriagada, delirante
no te metas, algo habrá hecho ese maleante
Yo volví con Onganía y la cosa aún seguía
Aristócratas patricios y Patricias de Anchorena
tan católicos mamones, protagonistas sin roles
yento tras de un socialismo patriotero, indicalista
preparados todos para aterrizar en pista
ya vacíos los aviones, transformados en camiones
de intereses, balas tristes
y vecinas que no entienden que ha pasado
en este barrio tan tranquilo, tan callado y quien dió la orden de cambiar el
mundo
de leer Antena en la peluquería
a jamás volver a sentir alegría
Madres muy desesperadas cocinaban y planchaban
hoy sus hijos son caníbales fantasmas
Los cadáveres se guardan o se esconden en el río
en palacios de memoria ensangrentada
Y tenemos pijas grandes, largas como mil facones
y anacrónicas arengas, melancólicas uniones
La bandera enloquecida, maten a los maricones
que los hombres van de putas para sentirse varones

Siempre el padre omnipresente de mirada contundente
que escondía un seductor muy asexuado
Gracias papi por las flores, por las reivindicaciones
vos sabés los hijos nunca te fallamos
Y si mami aún viviera, hoy sería jardinera
en el Cementerio Club de las pasiones
Yo que nunca anduve en nada, nunca me metí en política
simplemente fuí un muchache hedonista
y chiquitos y chiquitas inocentes con un arma
por el odio mas brutal descuartizados
El mas fuerte penaliza, pega duro, te hace trizas
nada personal, naturaleza humana
Los poderes organizan cual será la repartija de los bienes de la época

Nadie se puede salvar, nadie se puede salvar

Sigo vivo, sigo atento, y observando con el tiempo
esta extraña enfermedad inclasificada
que te afecta muy deprisa, que te quita la sonrisa
cuyo síntoma es que ya no importa nada

Argentino hasta la muerte,
la patilla de Facundo recortada de la Gente, de la Caras

Y seguir comiendo mierda, cada día, cada noche
y explicarle al mundo entero nuestra nada de la historia universal
de la argentina ensimismada
que contiene enciclopedia de uno mismo
y encender con la birome palabritas en el cielo,
en el campo las espinas
y en el centro de mi pecho hay un bicho que camina

Hoy la casa de mi infancia ya no existe ni hace falta
yo la llevo bien adentro en mis entrañas
toda llena de colores y de desapariciones
muy tempranas, muy profundas, muy amargas

Nada ha desaparecido
ni la casa con 10 pinos
ni mi amor, ni la zamba de mi esperanza
Es que el mundo es muy cretino
pero puede ser divino, si yo quiero
porque nada en este mundo me hace falta
Nada mas que algunos trucos
un conejo, una galera, un colchón, un tocadisco y una mesa
Y es posible que los hijos puedan cambiar lo que hicimos
y la casa nunca mas desaparezca

Argentinos, argentinos,
Qué destino mi amigo, argentinos
nadie sabe responder
Argentinos, argentinos
caminando siempre al lado del camino
la ventaja de no pertenecer

Argentina, Argentina
que pasó en la Argentina
es la casa desaparecida
Argentina, Argentina
donde todo es mentira, Argentina, la desaparecida
bienvenidos a la casa de todos
a la casa desaparecida
bienvendos a aparecer en este mundo
Argentina la desaparecida


HE DISSAPPEARED HOUSE

Fito Paez

Mother, put my medals in the jacket,
I can not put my shoes on anymore,
my two legs remained in Malvinas (Falkland)
The bad wine does not let me be cured of the sharp and dark nightmare
of Valeria Mazza kissing the Cordoban
who died at the stake, alone, bleeding to death among ravens.
Here in Resistencia we toast in his honor every April 2nd.

Argentinians, Argentinians,
What a destiny, my friend, Argentinians
no one knows how to answer
Argentinians, Argentinians
always walking at the other side of the road,
the advantage of not belonging

Embraces in the stands with anyone,
when Boca is on my mouth
on my womanly mouth
Among the boiling tea, the joint, the amphetamines
go Boca, go Boca, go Boca
go Boca have faith
that the war is lost and a long time gone
and we all know it, what can we do.
I give the perspired t-shirt
if today we win the cup 4 to 3

Argentina, Argentina
what happened in Argentina
it is the dissapeared house
Argentina, Argentina
welcome home, to Argentina,
to the dissapeared one.

I'm a male hooker on villa 21
I'll suck it to you, I'll do anything you want
Sargento Ibarra fell in love with me,
he pays whiskey and hotel on sundays
and I steal his pistol in his sleep
and I go to Godoy Cruz and Santa Fe
to take care of Ramona and the children
who kiss you, rob you, take care of you among the railways

Between Rosas y Sarmiento, Don Segundo y Martín Fierro
barbariousness and European manners
the country of inventions, Maradona,
the mysteries of the metaphysicial language of big resentment
Welcome, inmigrants, to this wandering paradise
it is known that to win you must risk it all.

And that house somebody left fleeing from the bullets
was the cultivation disc of nostalgia

In the caveman's tinsel realm of silence
a council of miseries, kneeling in front of the military quarters
And there was a party for every one, drunk, delirious,
don't peep, the sccoundrel must have done something.

I came back when Onganía and things were still the same.
Patrician aristocrats and Patricias de Anchorena
so Catholic and conceited, featuring without a role
going behind a patriotistic socialism, unionism.

Everyone ready for landing
with the planes gone empty, turned into buses
of interests, sad bullets
and neighbor women who don't understand what's happened
in this neighborhood so quiet, and who gave the order to change the world,
to read Antena at the barbershop,
to never feel happiness again.

Very desperate mothers cooked and ironed.
Today their children are cannibal ghosts
Corpses are retained or hidden in the river,
in palaces of bloodied memory.

And we have long dicks, long as a thousand killing knives
and anachronical speeches, melancholic unions.
The maddened banner, kill the faggots,
men go to whores to feel they are male.

Always the everpresent father of bruising glance
hiding a very sexless seducer.
Thank you daddy for the flowers, for the social demands,
you know your children never failed you.

And if mommy was still alive, today she'd be a gardener
in the Cemetery Club of Passions.

I who was never into nothing, never mingled with politics,
and was only a hedonist boy
And innocent little boys and girls with a weapon
torn to pieces by the most brutal hatred

The strongest one penalizes, hits you hard, tears you to pieces,
nothing personal, human nature
The powers organize the division of the epochal goods.

No one can be saved. No one can be saved.

I am still alive, attentive, and observing with time
this strange unclassified illness
that affects you very fast, takes away your smile
and whose sympthom is that you don't care at all

Argentinian to death,
the sideburn of Facundo cut from the people, from the faces

And to keep on eating ****, every day, every night,
and to explain to the whole world our nothingness in the universal history
of selfcentered Argentina
containing enciclopedias of oneself
and to light with the writing pen little words on the sky,
the thorns on the fields,
and inside my chest a crawling insect.

The house of my childhood does not exist and is not needed
I carry it well inside my entrails
all full of colors and dissapearances
very early, very deep, very bitter.

Nothing has dissapeared,
not the house with ten pines,
nor love, nor the dance of my hopes.
The world is very stupid,
but it can be divine if I want to,
because I need nothing in this world
except a few tricks,
a rabbit, a shelter, a matress, a record player and a table
And it's possible that our children can change what we did
and the house will not dissapear anymore

Argentinians, Argentinians,
What a destiny, my friend, Argentinians
no one knows how to answer
Argentinians, Argentinians
always walking at the other side of the road,
the advantage of not belonging

Argentina, Argentina
what happened in Argentina?
It is the dissapeared house
Argentina, Argentina
where everything is a lie,
Argentina, the dissapeared one
Welcome to everyone's home,
to the dissapeared house.
Welcome to appear in this world,
Argentina, the dissapeared one

Translation of Ofra Haza's IM NIN'ALU
Hi,

I found the following translation of Ofra Haza's IM NIN'ALU on http://www.hebrewsongs.com/?song=imninalu#TL1

Enjoy!

IF THE DOORS ARE LOCKED

If there be no mercy left in the world,
The doors of heaven will never be barred.
The Creator reigns supreme,
and is higher than the angels
All, in His spirit, will rise

By His nearness, His life-giving breath
flows through them.
And they glory in His name
From the moment of genesis,
His creations grow,
Captivating and more beautiful.

The wheel in his circle thunders
Acclaiming His Holy name
Clothed in the glory of His radiance,
The six-winged cherubs surround Him,
Whirling in His honor
And with their free wings sweetly sing,
Together, in unison

Thank you!

Hi, zhenren. Thanks and welcome to a2k.

hi--i think your translation is accurate, but i suspect there's some bawdy innuendo in the lyrics. for example "se los comienza de lana" might mean something like "pay up front" and the stuff about pumpkins might imply "turn you down." i'm not a native speaker of spanish, but i'm trying to figure it out. let me know if you come up with anything! --nico

I stand by Pantalones' translation.

We Mexicans may be masters of the double sense, but I fail to see one in that old classic song.

Hello !
At start I'm sorry for all english-mistakes that I've made in this post
I know that song in some kind of hebrew-polish mix. You probably would find all the lyrics ( Hebrew text, Transliteration and English translation) changing "Hava Nageela" to "Hava Nagila" Please, this is an article at wikipedia where you can find what you were looking for
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hava_Nagila
I hope you'll really rejoice;)

Thank you, nbd. I will certainly read up on that song. I will be gone about a day and a half, but I will not forget.

From the brown-skinned mountains
a pair of black eyes
is coming down, is coming down,
(my little) Beautiful Heaven, as contraband.

That birthmark you have
next to your mouth,
don't give it to anyone else,
Beautiful Heaven, as it's for me.

Oh, oh, oh,
sing and don't cry,
because in song
hearts are made joyful, (my little) Beautiful Heaven.

Great translation, Hingehead! I just have one quibble. I think in the chorus where you said, "But for Maria, there is no moon
She lifts her red goblet over the seas" the one lifting the goblet is the moon,

and it should be "But for Maria no moon lifts its red goblet . . ."

I move North now, to Central America.
Nicaragua is a word-prone country which appreciates poets and lyricists more than anything else.
A peculiar Nicaraguan thing is to make songs with made-up words that have no exact meaning, but nevertheless are very expressive. Also, to repeat popular talk.
The pioneers of this type of work were a group of doctor/musicians, who called themselves "Los Bisturices Armónicos" (translatable to "The Harmonic Scalppelics") and have very funny songs about people describing their pains and illnesses in a Nicaraguan fashion.
Carlos Mejía Godoy and his group Los de Palacagüina were the most popular Nicaraguan musical group, who peaked in the late 70s. Even if most of their songs are in the Bisturices tradition, they recorded, during the Sandinista revolution, "Guitarra Armada", or "Armed guitar" a very strange album, that gives detailed instructions on such stuff as how to make a molotov bomb, a granade, a land mine, how to use a rifle, etcetera.
Their biggest hit is "Son tus Perjúmenes Mujer". I'll try to translate it, even if many words are non-existent in any Spanish Dictionary.


Son tus perjúmenes mujer
Carlos Mejía Godoy & los de Palacagüina

Son tus perjúmenes, mujer,
los que me sulibeyan,
los que me sulibeyan,
son tus perjúmenes mujer.

Tus ojos son de colebrí,
¡ay cómo me aleteyan!,
¡ay cómo me aleteyan!,
tus ojos son de colebrí.

Tus labios, pétalos en flor,
¡cómo me soripeyan!,
¡cómo me soripeyan!,
tus labios, pétalos en flor.

Tus pechos, cántaros de miel,
¡cómo reverbereyan!,
¡cómo reverbereyan!,
tus pechos cántaros de miel.

Tu cuerpo chúcaro, mi bien,
¡ay, cómo me almareya!,
¡ay, cómo me almareya!,
tu cuerpo chúcaro, mi bien.

Son tus perjúmenes mujer
Carlos Mejía Godoy & los de Palacagüina

It's your perfumations, woman,
the ones that rebelsuble me,
the ones that rebelsuble me,
it's your perfumations, woman.

Your eyes are of hummenbird,
ah, how they batwing me!,
ah, how they batwing me!,
Your eyes are of hummenbird.

Your lips, flowering petals,
how they surpicate me!,
how they surpicate me!,
Your lips, flowering petals.

Your breast, honey jugs,
how they reverberay!
how they reverberay!
Your breast, honey jugs.

Your body, chugger, my love,
ah, how it resoulates me!,
ah, how it resoulates me!,
Your body, chugger, my love.