JuliaVaamonde, Maria Callas, Atahualpa Yupanqui - La Pastorcita Perdida letra de (lyrics)

The Giovanelli Herreras lived on the
Street just before the cul-de-sac
Eleven years ago, when they first
Arrived from Santa Fe, new Mexico
(after arriving from Richmond, Virginia after
Arriving from Buenos Aires, cABA) and
Drove by their neighbor José Peña
For the first time, he advised
Them, "Tienen que coger a la derecha"
You need to fuck right
But he meant, "You need to
Turn right" They thought
"Qué decís?" a decís to his dices and he
Probably found these airs, this
Accent of theirs
Equally offensive now when Gonzalo Herrera
And José Peña passed by one
Another, they’d slyly say, "Señor, "
And tongue-in-cheek talk about the weather
Like good American boys
Giving the loose handshake with a grunt in a
Classically manly but friendly register
María Eugenia Giovanelli
(Maru) would receive a besito on
The cheek from José
Their neighborliness was like countries’
Soccer rivalries jocularly tense

When Venezuela played Argentina, Gonzalo
Would say, "Chavón
" to José with a wink and talk more intently
About the weather alongside the earthy
Pastel one-floor homes
And fences of their Miami suburb true
Argentina beat Venezuela 11 – 0 in
1975 in the Copa Americano
But their adjacent living or
Even their fútbol rivalries were
Also historically tense josé
Looked at them from across the street
The Cono Sur people casi italianos as so many
Of their people were proud
To claim blanqueados

Gonzalo looked diagonally towards the Peña’s
Sprawling front yard with the
Year-old red Mercedes parked by
The peach house with
It's pointed white fence
It's little bamboo grove Miami touches
And thought they were too gente fina for him
Wondered how wealthy they all
Were back in Caracas the children
Used to trick-or-treat and
In the words of abuela Diana "tricky trick
" though they had to walk a bit to reach
Good old American candy providers
The neighbor drifted with age, with
Age difference, with difference
With suburban drawl

In the tangerine light of 6: 19 pm
The three generations of atheists really did
Look like a lovely Floridian
Family at a far enough glance
They really did pass
Especially for Hispanics slightly balding
Father at the grill, mother with
Healthy, curly dark hair sprinkling sugar
On top of strawberries
Daughter reading by the pool
In a big t-shirt, son getting
Quietly stoned by the mango trees
In the backyard after
Football practice then you would
Look closer the daughter, maría
Eugenia Eugenia or Euge to not be confused
With her mother reading Herman Hesse
Which felt a bit heavy for
Near summer the son
Gonzalo Martín Martín to avoid the
Same confusion with his father
Toeing a green, unripe mango that
Had fallen
Was not wearing a Dolphins jersey
But a lively blue
Shirt with Rojitas written on the back in
Sunflower yellow the father had flayed
An enormous squash on
The grill, calling for more
Oleo para la parrilla
And shook green sauce from a spoon onto the
Steak neither corn nor burgers in sight

The grandma, gazing at a mosquito
Stuck in the screen door
Is the main betrayal that they
Were not from there
Which is funny because she
Is blonde and blue-eyed
Diana Otet Giovanelli lived with
Them rather than
Down the road or a town over
Or in a nursing home even though she
Was only in her late sixties, but it was
Customary they were Latinos or
Hispanics or however you’d
Say she never learned English security guards
Would follow her while she
Prattled around stores
At the mall and when Gonzalo Martín
Her grandson, was six-years-old
A cop stopped her as she
Was speeding to the South
Florida YMCA for his daycamp
He translated and
Cried down the sweet square cheeks
Beneath the heavy dark bangs as the
Man told him his grandma
Would go to jail if she
Did not pay her ticket

The mother, Diana’s daughter, was not
Fussing in the kitchen
But humming and brandishing kitchen cloths
Purposefully what gave her away
Was the loud opera playing
On the record player
Beneath a clay candelabra that
Branched out Adam, Eve
And the snake in the garden
Of Eden this music was
Certainly too extravagant
Too dramatic for a Sunday afternoon
But they were Argentinean and had
A guest coming for dinner

"Cuando llegues a la calle Córdoba, tenés
Que doblar a la derecha, "
Maru had advised Facundo, a friend of
A friend of the family
Who was in Miami on family business facundo
Augusto Vidal Villegas was the
Brother of Alejandro who
Had gone to medical school with Maru
And Goni ale was the only of his
Six brothers to attend the public university
Which Goni liked to joke about with
Him so Facundo had made the
Giovannelli Herrera’s acquaintance at
Engagement parties
And baby showers and Communions

"Facundo llegó
" she saw from a distance as he
Pulled in the five lined up
In a row by the gravel driveway
He arrived in a rented mini-van for one
Stepping out and stretching
His crinkled leather
Coat to kiss the women on
The cheek followed by the men facundo
Brought Fernet bitters and Quilmes beer
Known to the
Adults and momentarily familiar to the
Children at the heavy, loud asados they'd go
To when they’d visit Argentina they drank
Maté socially when friends would visit
And they drank malbec always
Except Maru senior who blasphemously did not
Like the taste of alcohol diana
Uncorked the wine for six, and they all
Clinked their glasses and said, "Salud
" and Facundo took a walk around
The property of sorts with Gonzalo

He was a proper hombre de hombres
A macho with three buttons
Unbuttoned on his shirt and a
Thin matte gold chain, a chest hair away
From being tacky he performed well in
Yanki bars, executing expert chivalry, when
He asked if the woman who
Interested him had a boyfriend
Then huskily mentioned
How he was from Argentina he was
The kind of Argentine that people
Paint up in their heads, the prideful
Kind other Latinos don’t like, the kind
Who makes you think of tango
Of gauchos he actually grew up in
A rich suburb called San Isidro, with
Cobblestone streets and gothic churches
But, you know how customs
Spread within a country

The Giovanelli Herreras were different they
Had, together and apart
Been in most countries they passed through
For short amounts of time
They were Spanish peasants, Italian peasants
French peasants, Colombian landowners
Venezuelan butchers, Argentine tailors
Floridian doctors they left, and they left
And they left
Yet, they weren’t sexily radical in
The Argentine way gonzalo was
A moderate Socialist, his wife
A more traditional Socialist, y la suegra
A wobbly they were a more bookish
Wan kind of Argentine there
Were other Argentines in Miami, but
They were too rich
Too loud in a different way from
Her family "¿De dónde sos?"
They’d ask, "¿Chacarita? No lo conozco
" they’d say about
Her barrio those kinds lived
In Miami center though
So she made do with the confusion being among
Her not-people neighbor people rather
Than her people
Who weren’t her people her teeth lingered on
The lls so they came out like
A j and s at once
And the Cuban women at the
Supermarket would giggle when she’d
Say "frutilla" instead of "fresa"
She blamed her dislike
Of los cubanos on their distracted behavior
At the clinic where she worked
Who would smoke in front of
The children? She was judgmental
But she also envied the community

"Hay alfajores en el asiento de atrás
" Facundo said back from his quick walk
Around their small yard
Their small plot of land

"Uy, que rico muchísimas gracias ya hice un
Budín así que tenemos que ahorrarlos
Porque estamos de dieta, viste, " she
Smiled like she was kidding
And Euge smiled and
Squirmed maru would make a budín
When she had enough time, but no matter what
She would make strawberries canned or fresh
But the canned could be saccharine
Fleshier as she liked with sugar on top

Sugared strawberries were an
Easily reproducible dessert that made her
Think of home she and
Her little brother, Luis
Ate them with small dessert forks
From their mother’s wedding china
They were older now and still ate the
Funnily familiar frutilla he grit the sugar
Crystals in his teeth, taste of so
Much sweetness, "Sos demasiada
Nostálgica Maru, " he had told her the last
Time he came over for
Dinner "No entiendo porque quieren volver
Ya saben que esos
Hijos de putas están imponiendo
Todas sus reglas
Y ya no hay espacio para una persona política
Como vos y lo que me asustas es
Que no sos tan política
Pero igual te callaría" He was more
Radical in his medicine she told
Herself to refrain from asking
Facundo much about her
Home because she thought they wouldn’t agree
Rich as the family was

She brought the guizo de
Lentejas to the dining
Room, sat at the head of the table
And smiled at her guest

"¿Qué te parece?" Diana asked about the house

"Amo las palmeras
¿las han talado una vez? Hemos hecho ésto con
Los árboles en nuestra estancia
En las Pampas"

"Lindo, nunca aprendí pienso que la policía
No le gustaría si hubiera
Hecho ésto en la Plaza de
Congreso, " Goni chuckled
And the seventeen-year-old Martín
Shook his head

"Y tampoco has enseñado el
Pibe rugby?" Facundo smirked
Patting a heavy hand on
Blinking Martín’s back
Making him blink awake a bit

"Pues hay que visitar nuestra casa
De campo la próxima vez
" he said it was so easy for
Maru to be suspicious of quick generosity

"Estamos planeando una visita
Para la Navidad
" Gonzalo saw the good in people

"Buenísimo, " Facundo grinned
Through his whiskers
The long hairs a midpoint between
Stubble and beard that
Endlessly amused Martín for being
So damn porteño

"¿Che, cómo está el Ale?" Maru asked

"Me parece más o menos bien
Todavía cirujano entonces bien ocupado
" Facundo sighed

"¿Y la Gabi?" Maru loved Gabi, Ale’s wife
Throughout their
Competitions the competitions between not
So subjectively beautiful, smart women

"Re linda como siempre y re hincha
Bolas como siempre, " they laughed
"Siempre hablando de las putas
Villas no entiendo porque
Pasa tanto tiempo allá su marido es
Un jefe del hospital Alemán" The five of
Them swallowed and cleared their throats
Whether or not they had been drinking
If Eugenia were younger she’d say
But my parents worked
In the villa as doctors as well the yellowing
Photograph of the clinic she knew to
Be pale yellow from stories was hanging in
Her bedroom but she was older
And quieter now and had
Acquired the appropriate
Grown-up cues eugenia junior
Poured herself Fernet
And the ice cubes melting clinks woke the
Table up "Lo siento por putear
" Facundo winked

They moved from the lentil stew with
Supermarket baguette to churrasco
And chimichurri
With more supermarket baguette the quality of
The meat, not the bread
Was what mattered most facundo unsurprisingly
Had his own leather-cased knife
For meat that he shined off
Casually with a handkerchief

"¿Y ustedes que hacen acá?"

"Él trabaja en la facultad de
Medicina aquí y yo
Manejo una clínica pública como
Hacía en Buenos Aires"

"Lindo ¿Es difícil servir la…" he paused
"¿gente acá?" and drank more

"¿Cómo?" she looked at him directly

"Pues con tantas personas diferentes nunca he
Visto tantos negros y "

"Trabajo con muchas negritas
Son enfermeras buenas" Gonzalo said

"Que fascinante
" Facundo noted with a slow slow nod
Martín kicked his sister under the table

"Perdón, voy a ponerme nueva música
" Doña Diana said she was tired
Of all the María Callas
That made her miss her husband, Ángel
Who had
Died of lung cancer three years earlier
So she went in to have a smoke
Placing another disc on the player he loved
Gadgets the photos he took of
Them hung around the house
She liked herself more
In them, younger of course, but sepia toned
Dark
Lipstick, hair in loose yet wound curls
When she
Was more Italian that sounded so vain, and
She was vain, but lovably
With energy and care
She headed back in the dining room
Winked at Martín who
Smoked with her sometimes, and
Sat by Eugenia, who wrinkled her nose at the
Tobacco smell she twirled her
Hand through her nieta’s straight
Dully beautiful black hair
And laid behind her young
Slender neck joven, joven y delgada

Facundo glanced at them, "Te queda
Re linda con pelo largo, "
Eyebrow cocked gonzalo flared his nostrils
Slightly, dug his wide, evenly cut
Medicine man thumbnail into his
Palm he pinched the
Wine glass stem and took a long, long sip
Remembering that it’s fairly
Cultural to chantear

"Hace demasiado calor durante
Los veranos entonces
Voy a cortarlo" She muttered
Pushing the squash away from the
Red meat on her plate
And her parents smiled at each other

"¿Quién toca esta canción?" Facundo
Biting into the
Baguette smiling to himself at the quick
Soft guitar only to smirk at
The point when the lyrics uttered, Duerme
Duerme negrito que
Tu mama está en el campo "Ah mira Goni
Que él le gustan los negros
Tanto también" Martín choked
On his third Quilmes it was a lullaby

"Es Atahualpa Yupanqui
" Maru said she breathed

"¿El indio? ¿Comunista?" Facundo furrowed

"Era comunista por un rato, pero
Igual, ahora está en exilio, " Gonzalo said

"Como todos deben estar la patria se
Está limpiando poco a poco"

"¿Limpiando? La única cosa que he oído es
Que las cosas son muy raras
Ahora, y me da miedo que nadie
Está hablando de las cosas abiertamente
" Maru said

"No entiendo, " Facundo said

"Déjame explicarlo para vos si estes tan
Confundido, " Goni, usually placid
Would even engage "Nuestra amiga Paula
No ha visto su hermano
En un mes las mujeres de mi barrio "

"Las viejas de Congreso están haciendo
Lío violento para nada
Gritando y vistiéndose como abuelitas
Gitanas" Facundo interrupted
Slamming his hand a bit

"Están gritando para sus hijos
" Diana said calmly

"Sus hijos que han desaparecido
" Maru raised her voice louder

"¿Entonces ustedes son los rojos que creen
En esos pelotudeces?" Facundo yelled

"Tenemos periódicos acá no somos tontos
Nadie sabe precisamente que
Está pasando, pero las noticias
Han sido duras
" Gonzalo kept his voice calm

"Pero no han desaparecido ¿Quién sabe lo que
Pasó? Estos hijos de re mil
Putas, boludos que van a las cabecitas
Negras, a la provincia para hacer
" he was spitting a bit from
Anger, "¿Quién sabe? Es su culpa
" ending with a very porteño
Thrust of his arm upward
To hold his fist with three fingers pinched
Together the kids looked at each other
Martín flicking a fly that
Landed on his steak

"No es la culpa del ejército
" Maru said "Los desaparecidos
Estaban ayudando a
Los que han sido cogidos por los
Chetos de mierda como vos" Euge looked at
Her mother with a wide smile

"¿Ah, porque ustedes saben tanto de
La patria ahora después
De huirse?" Gonzalo hit his hand on the table
And remorsefully grabbed a glass that
Quavered "¿Te gustan las
Piletas acá, los colectivos que
Llegan a tiempo, los -"

"Véte, " Maru said she didn't like talking
About why they never went home for
Good -even though they had always hoped to
She wish there were a better
Reason, but after a few years time
The political danger had simply
Become an excuse
They had children in the States, they
Would have grandchildren in this country
The moving back would be a strain
The going home to the
Very real place resided in the
Space of dreams and vacation

"La Pastorcita Perdida" came on

He huffed, "No estás con tu gente
Cuando estes con tu gente
" You’re not with your people
When you’re with your people he had a point
But whose people were they?
Punay, punay, devuélveme, devuélveme

He stormed out
And the older three stayed tense
Gonzalo put his arm around
Maru’s waist, his queen crowned beneath the
Prelapsarian candelabra she grabbed his wine
Swigging deeply and spitting a bit back
Out like a child because
She still hated the taste of
Wine martín and Euge
Slipped out to watch television
Pick at the frutilla con azúcar
And tipsily speculate on what
Had just occurred to ease
The discomfort frank Perdue
Spanish language chicken advertisements
With the odd close-ups of skin and pink
That Frank prodded in his suit
In a proper American home
Played Facundo out as he sped off

Gonzalo Martín went out to find his
Mother outside they floated their
Feet in the pool, their calves
Grazing tiles of cobalt
Mediterranean decal on it's rims

"Are you okay, mami?" He asked
And she put her head on his shoulder

The disappearances would end
And maybe they would start again they
Would visit their friend Vera
The next year when they asked what was
Going on, if the stories were true
She’d tell them how they could
Only speak of the news
Behind closed doors because you never
Knew who was listening

Gonzalo went to sit on his stoop
Still holding his doctor hands in
Loose fists josé waved at him as
He watered his flowers rafael
Dudamel, goalie on the
Venezuelan national team
Would score on Argentina in
1998 their grandson Alec would fall
In the unheated, eighty-degree cold
Cold pool at
6 months old and Euge would jump
In after him to rescue him
Fully clothed facundo’s cousin got shot when
The second presidency fell the
Grandson Carlos Gonzalo Feinstein
Would be born on April 7th like the Yupanqui
Song goni would be old, and
When his nieto was twenty
He’d still believe he was
In Buenos Aires sometimes

Yupanqui was born right outside
Of Buenos Aires, but
He was more properly Latino, properly brown
Properly left and argentine where
Was their Punay? They
Were the European peasants
With anarchisms and
Socialisms and stiletto Italian names
Who came and claimed the gaucho
They left and would leave
And their children’s children would leave

Diana’s great-granddaughter heard La
Pastorcita Perdida in her head after their
Generation was dead tones for yearning
Not so far from
Her life, but from their country
Not her own former country
Wind blew through the house
They lived in now
She didn’t know if she really
Remembered the song from
Their playing it when she was young or
If she remembered it from a time she played
It to herself to try to remember them