Canta de los Inmigrantes


I am trying to get the recorded sound onto my site - but as I work on that, I wanted to share this canto that an Mexican migrant who returned to his town in Esperanza, Puebla shared with me...

Procedente de Esperanza salieron una mañana. Una y al otro se miraba, llueva a nula mirada. Era su sueño dorado de un día llegar a Tijuana.

Era mañana de enero bonito por cierto el mes. Su sueño serán Tijuana o California tal vez. Rubén se lo platicaba al que venia primera vez.

Sus padres son raídos viejos llorando los despidieron, diciéndole unos consejos lo mucho que se quisieron, “Recuerdos cuando eran niños el tiempo que nos tuvieron.”

Estaban rayando el alma cuando el autobús tomaron. En México tan bonito otro autobús abordaron su destino era Tijuana eso es lo que comentaron.

Una camión neta blanca en San Isidro tomaron, al las once de la noche lo estaba esperando. Las placas no se los digo por ya se me olvidaron

Nunca olvidare cuando la migra búrlanos. Cruzando muchas veredas y una rolla que cruzamos del pollero que nos trajo ni una raza nos damos.

Ahora me encuentro feliz con todo los ilegales a todo traigo saludos y ha venido a saludarles pero los quiero pedir no olviden su familiares.

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Originating from Esperanza, they took off one morning. As one looks at the other, they wear an empty gaze. It was the golden dream to one day reach Tijuana.

It was a January morning, for certain a beautiful month. Their dream would be Tijuana, or perhaps California. Ruben talked about how he would be coming for the first time.

Their parents are worn-out elders, crying as they sent them off. Imparting some advice, the most important of which was, “Remember when you were children the time that we had together.”

Their spirits were shining when they caught the bus. In Mexico, so beautiful, they caught another bus, its destination was Tijuana. That is what they said.

They took a bus blanketed in white in San Isidro, waiting for it since 11:00 p.m. at night. I don’t tell you about the license plates, because I have already forgotten.

I will never forget when migration sized us up. Crossing many paths and disorder, of which the trafficker who took us never gave us a clue.

Now I have found happiness with all the illegal Mexicans to whom I bring greetings. I have come to greet them but I want to ask them never to forget their families.