Javier Ruibal — De Málaga Malagueñito song lyrics and translation
The page contains the lyrics and English translation of the song "De Málaga Malagueñito" by Javier Ruibal.
Lyrics
¡Ay, Pablo Ruíz, qué travieso!
Corazón de plastilina
La vida te tira un beso
La gracia te da propina
Este niño, que es un caso
Apunta buenas maneras
Pero cuando pinta un vaso
Y el agua la pone afuera
Y sin ningún miramiento
Ha retratao a su abuela
Un ojo tuerce pa dentro
Y el otro pa' donde quieras
De Málaga, malagueñito
Tú nunca fuiste pobre
Ni señorito
El divino impertinente
Se tutea con la gloria
Con su pincel insolente
Se va escribiendo la historia
De cuadro en cuadro, al asalto
Saltabas como un chiquillo
Huracanes de cobalto
Temporales de amarillo
Y de la ceca a la Meca
De la locura a las damas
¿cuál de todas tus muñecas
Puso color en tu cama?
De Málaga, qué buena suerte
Este torero, primo
Pinta de muerte
Cuando un perfume exquisito
A dólar y trementina
Te viene abriendo las puertas
A medida que caminas
Y el eco de tu presencia
Se lo rifan los señores
Tú defiendes tu conciencia
A brochazos tricolores
¡Ay, Pablo Ruíz, niño chico!
Recuérdalo, por si acaso:
Tú siempre serás Pablito
Aunque te llamen Picasso
De Málaga, ¡ay! malagueño
Tú que lo tienes todo
No eres tu dueño
De Málaga, Málaga
Malagueñito
Tú nunca fuiste pobre
Ni señorito
Lyrics translation
Oh, Pablo Ruiz, how naughty!
Plasticine heart
Life gives you a kiss
Grace gives you a tip
This kid, that's a case
Point out good ways
But when he paints a glass
And the water puts it outside
And without a glance
He's portrayed his grandmother.
An eye twists pa inside
And the other pa ' wherever you want
From Malaga, malagueñito
You Were Never poor
No, sir.
The divine impertinent
It stands with glory
With his insolent brush
The story is being written
From frame to frame, to assault
You jumped like a kid.
Cobalt hurricanes
Yellow thunderstorms
And from the ECSC to Mecca
From madness to ladies
which of all your dolls
Did he put color on your bed?
From Malaga, what good luck
This bullfighter, cousin
Pint of death
When an exquisite perfume
A dollar and turpentine
He's opening the doors for you.
As you walk
And the echo of your presence
It's yours.
You defend your conscience
A tricolor skewer
Oh, Pablo Ruiz, child boy!
Remember, just in case.:
You'll always be Pablito
Even if they call you Picasso
From Malaga, Oh! Malaga
You have it all
You don't own it.
From Malaga, Malaga
Malaguenito
You Were Never poor
No, sir.