Galerna | Galerna |
Él salía pronto de casa con la mano en el corazón La corbata mal anudada y su parte de razón. Ella hacía después la cama con jirones de su amor Mientras iba recogiendo su dolor Pero al regresar, como cada día La galerna abría el ventanal. El rencor sentado frente a la ira Se desafiaban una vez más Estribillo: Sois los dos culpables de que en mi pecho Vivan la serpiente y el alacrán Vivan la tormenta y el desaliento Las espinas del rosal Sois los dos culpables de que en mis sueños No haya un cielo al que mirar No haya un río, no haya campo Primera vez No haya paz Segunda vez Sólo el mar de mi soledad Él volvía tarde y cansado, sin nada que contar. Ella abría sus ojos claros, desgastados de esperar. Él huía como los gatos que se asustan al pasar Mientras ella preparaba su verdad Un guante caía sobre mis flores. Otro duelo a muerte iba a comenzar. El ruido de sables de cada noche Con el mismo herido que reanimar Estribillo Sois los dos culpables de que en mi cuello Sienta vuestras manos al despertar Que me aprietan cada día un poco más |
He used to leave home early with his hand on his heart His tie badly tied and his bit of reason. She would then make the bed with scraps of her love While she was going around gathering up her pain But on returning, like every day The galerna used to open the window. Rancour sat in front of anger They challenged each other once more Chorus: The two of you are responsible for [the fact] that in my chest Live the snake and the scorpion Live storm and despondency And the thorns of a rose bush The two of you are responsible for [the fact] that in my dreams There is no sky at which to look There is no river, there is no field First time There is no peace Second time Only the sea of my loneliness He used to come back late and tired, with nothing to relate. She would open her clear eyes that were worn out from waiting. He fled like cats that get scared when passing While she was preparing her truth A glove fell on my flowers. Another duel to the death was going to begin. The noise of sabres every night With the same wounded person to revive Chorus The two of you are responsible for [the fact] that On awakening I feel your hands on my neck That squeeze me a bit more every day |