Letra 'The priest they called him' de 'Nirvana' traducida al español

'Fight tuberculosis, folks.' Christmas Eve, an old
junkie selling Christmas seals on North Park Street.
The 'Priest,' they called him. 'Fight tuberculosis, folks.'
People hurried by, gray shadows on a distant wall.
It was getting late and no money to score.
He turned into a side street and the lake wind hit him like a knife.
Cab stop just ahead under a streetlight.
Boy got out with a suitcase. Thin kid in prep school clothes,
familiar face, the Priest told himself, watching from the doorway.
'Remindsme of something a long time ago.' The boy, there, with his overcoat
unbuttoned, reaching into his pants pocket for the cab fare.
The cab drove away and turned the corner. The boy went inside
a building. 'Hmm, yes, maybe' - the suitcase was there in the doorway.
The boy nowhere in sight. Gone to get the keys, most likely,
have to move fast. He picked up the suitcase and started for the corner.
Made it. Glanced down at the case. It didn't look like the case the boy had,
or any boy would have. The Priest couldn't put his finger on what was so
old about the case. Old and dirty, poor quality leather, and heavy.
Better see what's inside. He turned into Lincoln Park, found an
empty place and opened the case. Two severed human legs that belonged to
a young man with dark skin. Shiny black leg hairs glittered in the
dim streetlight. The legs had been forced into the case and he had to use
his knee on the back of the case to shove them out. 'Legs, yet,'
he said, and walked quickly away with the case.
Might bring a few dollars to score. The buyer sniffed suspiciously.
'Kind of a funny smell about it.' 'It's just Mexican leather.'
'Well, some joker didn't cure it.'
The buyer looked at the case with cold disfavor.
'Not even right sure he killed it, whatever it is.
Three is the best I can do and it hurts. But since this is Christmas
and you're the Priest...' he slipped three bills under the table into the
Priest's dirty hand. The Priest faded into the street shadows, seedy
and furtive. Three cents didn't buy a bag, nothing less than a nickel.
Say, remember that old Addie croaker told me not to come back unless
I paid him the three cents I owe him. Yeah, isn't that a fruit for ya,
blow your stack about three lousy cents.
The doctor was not pleased to see him.

'Now, what do you WANT? I TOLD you!'
The Priest laid three bills on the table. The doctor put the
money in his pocket and started to scream.
'I've had TROUBLES! PEOPLE have been around!
I may lose my LICENSE!' The Priest just sat there, eyes, old and heavy with
years of junk, on the doctor's face.
'I can't write you a prescription.' The doctor jerked open a drawer
and slid an ampule across the table. 'That's all I have in the OFFICE!'
The doct

'Lucha contra la tuberculosis, la gente ". La víspera de Navidad, un viejo
adicto a la venta de sellos de Navidad en North Park Street.
El "sacerdote", le llamaban. 'Lucha contra la tuberculosis, la gente ".
La gente corrió por las sombras grises en una pared distante.
Se estaba haciendo tarde y no el dinero para anotar.
Se convirtió en una calle lateral y el viento del lago lo golpeó como un cuchillo.
Cab parada justo delante de una farola.
Chico salió con una maleta. Chico delgado con ropa de la escuela preparatoria,
cara familiar, el sacerdote se dijo, mirando desde la puerta.
"Remindsme de algo hace mucho tiempo." El niño, que, con su abrigo
desabrochada, alcanzando en el bolsillo del pantalón de la tarifa del taxi.
La cabina se alejó y dobló la esquina. El chico entró en la casa
un edificio. "Hmm, sí, tal vez" - la maleta estaba allí en la puerta.
En ninguna parte la joven a la vista. Ido a buscar las llaves, lo más probable,
tienen que moverse rápido. Cogió la maleta y se dirigió a la esquina.
Lo hizo. La mirada hacia el caso. No se veía como el caso de que el niño tenía,
o cualquier niño que tenga. El sacerdote no podía poner su dedo en lo que era tan
edad sobre el caso

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