Aleluya

Luis Eduardo Aute

Originale

American version, sung by Ed Ames, popular in 1968: "Who Will...

ALELUYA Estas son las cosas que me hacen repudiar al gobierno loco del fascista Días Ordáz fuera tavo, fuera tavo, aleluya. Las metrallas en la mano un herido muy cercano la masacre no termina una noche de granadas muchas vidas destrozadas. Aleluya. Cinco padres que reclaman les entregan las cenizas la sonrisa de un sargento la mentira para el pueblo una madre que pregunta asesinos que se juntan. Aleluya. Hay silencio más no olvido un hijito se ha perdido corre sangre por el suelo es festín de granadero estudiantes maltratados los derechos pisoteados. Aleluya. Decisión de mente obtusa un disparo de basooka unos lobos en la noche doce voces que no se oyen una puerta derrumbada buen madero para tumba. Aleluya. Un soldado se adelanta y atraviesa una garganta no hay paz para los muertos ni ataúd para sus cuerpos la maldad de un presidente el dolor de aquella gente. Aleluya. Multitudes que reclaman policías que los atacan lambiscones temblorosos seis chacales temerosos una anciana que protesta se la lleva la secreta. Aleluya. Un tirano y una bota una ley que no funciona los periódicos vendidos locutores corrompidos podredumbre en las planas polvo y lodo en las pantallas. Aleluya. Una cárcel sin salida un obrero sin comida la miseria exasperante la dobléz del gobernante opulencia y disctadura nuestro pueblo, ¡nunca, nunca! Aleluya. Estas son las cosas que me hacen repudiar al gobierno loco del fascista Días Ordáz. Aleluya, Aleluya, Aleluya.

Who Will Answer? From the canyons of the mind, We wander on and stumble blindly Through the often-tangled maze Of starless nights and sunless days, While casting for some kind of clue Or road to lead us to the truth, But who will answer? Side by side two people stand, Together vowing, hand-in-hand That love's imbedded in their hearts, But soon an empty feeling starts To overwhelm their hollow lives, And when we seek the hows and whys, Who will answer? High upon a lonely ledge, a figure teeters near the edge, And jeering crowds collect below To egg him on with, "Go, man, go!" And who will ask what led him To his private day of doom, And who will answer? On a strange and distant hill, A young man's lying very still. His arms will never hold his child, Because a bullet running wild Has cut him down. And now we cry, "Dear God, Oh, why, oh, why?" And who will answer? (Full melody the rest of the song) If the soul is darkened by a fear it cannot name, If the mind is baffled when the rules don't fit the game, Who will answer? Who will answer? Who will answer? In the rooms of dark and shades, The scent of sandalwood pervades. The colored thoughts in muddled heads Reclining in rumpled beds Of unmade dreams that can't come true, And when we ask what we should do, Who? Who will answer? 'Neath the spreading mushroom tree, The world revolves in apathy As overhead, a row of specks Roars on, drowned out by discotheques, And if a secret button's pressed Because one man has been outguessed, Who will answer? Is our hope in walnut shells Worn 'round the neck with temple bells, Or deep within some cloistered walls Where hooded figures pray in halls? Or crumbled books on dusty shelves, Or in our stars, or in ourselves, Who will answer? If the soul is darkened By a fear it cannot name, If the mind is baffled When the rules don't fit the game, Who will answer? Who will answer? Who will answer? Alleluiah! Alleluiah! Alleluiah!