Ricardo Arjona - El Mojado

He packed a couple shirts, a hat,
his vocation to be an adventurer,
six advices, seven pictures, a thousand memories…

He packed his yearning to stay,
his condition [open to] transformation
into the man he dreamed he could be but had not become…

He said goodbye, his expression masked in a smile
And he begged his God, to Him crucified on the sill,
For the safety of those who are his.

And he perforated the border, as his means allowed him to…

CHORUS

If the moon, soft, can flow
Through any window sill, with permission none,
Why does the wetman [wetback] necessitate
The proof of a visa [to demonstrate] he’s not from Neptune
[that he is human]

The wetman craves to dry up,
The wetman is wet
With his own tears, which nostalgia surged.

The wetman, the undocumented,
Carries the bulk a legal man
Would never carry –not even if obligated

The ordeal of one [document] paper
Has transformed him into a fugitive
And he is not from here because his name does not appear in the archives,
Nor is he from there because he left

If the moon, soft, can flow
Through any window sill, with permission none,
Why does the wetman necessitate
The proof of a visa [to demonstrate] he’s not from Neptune
[That he is human]

Wetman,
It tastes like a lie –your truth
It tastes like sadness would –your anxiety
To see a freeway* only to dream
With the path leading to your home

Wetman,
Wet from shedding so many tears,
Knowing that somewhere
Awaits a kiss, suspended
Since the day of your depart

If the moon, soft, can flow
Through any window sill, with permission none,
Why does the wetback necessitate
The proof of a visa [to demonstrate] he’s not from Neptune
[that he is human]

If the universal visa is extended
On the day we are born
And expires upon death,
Why then, are you persecuted, wetman,
If the consulate of the heavens
Has already granted you permission –then, why?