El Gran Simón

My rebuttal to El Gran Varón

(Lyrical translation below)

 

Dear Simón

 

I wish your story had ended differently.

Another name on the quilt sown.

If you were my dearest daughter,

you would have never been alone.

 

Once the pride of Don Andrés,

until he saw you in a skirt.

Guess he wasn’t man enough.

Became the bedrock of your hurt.

 

Shunned you into solitude,

but you deserved much better.

He condemned your pride,

and silence became your scarlet letter.

 

There was nothing wrong with you,

or the curvaceousness of your branches.

We can’t say the same for him,

and their hateful conservative glances.

 

2

 

I wish to take the pain away,

erase it entirely from your soul.

His actions were shortsighted,

like hiking cliffs with a blindfold.

 

He deserves to live in heartache,

loathing, sitting in hell.

Living forever in anguish,

rotting away in his citadel.

 

The punishment doesn’t fit the crime.

Misery should be his ancient foe.

Outdated beliefs he chose over blood.

Gossip transcribed 2000 years ago.

 

Goodbye, my beautiful child,

our love I’ll never disown.

Your father replaced his sinful heart,

with a rock he shouldn’t have thrown.

 

3

 

If Dante’s epic is true,

I don’t want your father to ascend.

A better judgment than the nine circles,

I desperately want him to attend.

 

Let him through the pearly gates.

And see your greatness on display.

Standing next to his God,

fabulously gleaming as you both slay.

 

If that sounds too outrageous,

our differences shouldn’t be sins.

If we were made in God’s image,

then we are all reflections of him.

 

(or her)

 

4

 

Now you’re in a better place,

where your “tronco” can sprout its roots.

Spreading across the universe,

catwalking down uncharted routes.

 

I pray you find solace,

and can finally be at peace.

You were his greatest accomplishment,

an accidental artist of a masterpiece.

 

No matter what the song says,

our twists and bends are not mistakes.

Let’s embrace all our glorious curves,

and ignore the so-called straights.

 

Peace.

 


 

The backstory to the post 

El Grand Varón is a song well-known in the Latino community. I’m sure many of you have it on a weekend “clean the house playlist.” 

It has always been a favorite of mine because of the message, but I always had issues with the Don Andrés character.

As a dad of two beautiful souls, the song hits differently now looking at my babies. I could never see myself disowning my children.

This is my letter to Simóns, everywhere.

 


El Gran Varón
(Translated )
The Great Man 
In the hospital room
at 9:43
Simon was born.
It’s the summer of ’56
the pride of Don Andres
because he was a boy.
He was raised just like the others
with a harsh hand with severity
he never expressed his own thoughts.
When you grow up you’re going to study
the same things as your father
listen well
you need to be
a great man.
Simon went abroad
faraway from home he forgot that sermon,
he changed the way he walked
he wore a skirt, lipstick
and a purse.
The people say that one day the father
went to visit him without warning him in advance,
well, what a mistake.
A woman spoke to him when he was passing on by
and told him hello, how’s it going father what’s up?
you don’t recognize me, I am Simon
Simon your son,
the great man
CHORUS:
You can’t correct nature
a stick that’s born twisted never straightens out its trunk. (3x)
He let himself be carried away
what the people say
his father never spoke to him
he abandoned him forever.
You can’t correct nature
a stick that’s born twisted never straightens out its trunk.
Don’t complain Andres
don’t complain about anything
if from the sky lemons fall
learn to make lemonade.
You can’t correct nature
a stick that’s born twisted never straightens out its trunk.
And while the years pass
the old man yielding a little bit
Simon didn’t even write to him anymore
Andres was furious.
You can’t correct nature
a stick that’s born twisted never straightens out its trunk.
At last there was news
of where his son was
Andres never forgot the day
of that sad phone call.
la, la, la, le, le . . . la, la, la, le, le, le (2x)
In the hospital room
from a strange sickness Simon died
it’s the summer of ’86
nobody cried for the sick man in bed no. 10
Simon Simoooon Simon
You can’t correct nature
a stick that’s born twisted never straightens out its trunk.
You need to have compassion
the moral is enough:
he who is free of sin
throw the first stone.
You can’t correct nature
a stick that’s born twisted never straightens out its trunk.
He who never forgives
has a certain destiny
of reliving sour memories
in their own hell.
You can’t correct nature71
a stick that’s born twisted never straightens out its trunk.

https://lyricstranslate.com/en/el-gran-var%C3%B3n-great-man.html