This song captures an immigrant’s emotional struggle very well, I think.
El Mojado by Ricardo Arjona (translated)
He packed a pair of shirts, a sombrero
His vocation of adventurer
Six pieces of advice, seven photos, a thousand memories.
He packed his desires to stay
His condition to transform into the man that he dreamed and has not become
He said good-bye with his face disguised with a smile
he begged to his God crucified in his mantelpiece
the defense of his own people and perforated the border as he was able
If the moon smoothly slides through any cornice
without any permission, why does the wetback need
to verify with visas that he is not of Neptune?
The wetback wants to be dried
The wetback is wet
by the tears that drip from the nostalgia
The wetback, the one without papers, carries the bulk
That the legal one would not carry even if obligated
The role of a piece of paper has made him become a fugitive
He’s a fugitive and he is not from here because his name
does not appear in the files. Neither is he from there because left
If the moon smoothly slides through any cornice
without any permission, why does the wetback need
to verify with visas that he is not of Neptune?
Wetback your truth tastes like a lie,
the anxiety tastes like sadness
to see a freeway and to dream
of the truth that leads you to your home
Wet, wet of so much cry knowing that in some place
a kiss in pause awaits you since the day you left
If the moon smoothly slides through any cornice
without any permission, why does the wetback need
to verify with visas that he is not of Neptune?
If the universal visa extends the day in which we are born
and is invalid at death, why do they pursue you wetback
If the consul of the skies has already given you permission?





