On Friday, 7 November 2008, at 20:15:46, Johnny Wildseed wrote:

Tengo Una Banda Dominguera
que Siempre Toca En La Plaza
con Una Tuba Grandota
y Unos Platillos De Lata
el Perro Que Mueve La Cola
el Nino Quiere Un Bizcocho
la Abuela Vende Galletas
el Cura Pide Devotos
siempre En Domingo Me Pasa Lo Mismo
pensar Que El Domingo Es Para Descansar
y Yo Que Vivo Juntando Papeles
me Voi A Quejar A La Municipal
y Sin Embargo Me Gusta La Banda
cuando Los Domingos Se Pone A Tocar
y Yo Papeles Llevando Este Ritmo
que A Toda La Plaza Pone A Bailar

I have a Sunday band
that always plays in the plaza
with a big, fat tuba
and some tin plates
the dog who wags its tail
the boy wants a cookie
the old lady sells cookies
the priest seeks new church-members
I always spend Sunday the same way
thinking that it's supposed to be for resting
while I survive by gathering trash
I'm going to file a complaint against city hall.
Still, I do sort of like the band
when they get ready to play each Sunday
and in time to the music I gather the litter
that the whole damned plaza dances out

(I did the translation while Saul was out and, when he came back, he
was quite impressed with how I had managed to catch the sense of the
song.  I suspect, somehow that there are more lyrics flamencoing
around the pleroma, but the poem as it stands now is somewhat of a
charmer.)

See http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S_-jlfuqTBg