Contact me
Songs by titleSongs by album

La Oreja De Van Gogh - Galerna
Album: Un Susurro En La Tormenta

GalernaGalerna
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