Lyrics and translation Liran' Roll - El Pianista

El Pianista

Esta es la historia de un sábado
Que importa cual mes
Y de un hombre sentado al piano
Que importa cual viejo cafe

Toma el vaso y le tiemblan las manos
Apestando entre humo y sudor
Y se agarra a su tabla de náufrago
Volviendo a su eterna canción

Oh-oh- la- ra- ra-lara- raaa
Lara-ra-lara-ra-a-a

Toca otra vez viejo perdedor
Haces que me sienta bien
Es tan triste la noche que tu cancion
Sabe a derrota y a miel

Cada vez el espejo en la pared
Le devuelve más joven la piel
Se le encienden los ojos y su niñez
Viene a tocar junto a él

Pero siempre hay borrachos con babas
Que le recuerdan quien fue
El más joven maestro al piano
Vencido por una mujer

Oh-oh-la-ra-lara-raaa
Lara-ra-lara-ra-a-a

Ella nunca quiso echar raíces
Que pudieran sus alas cortar
Y en la jaula metida la vida se le iba
Y quiso sus fuerzas probar

No lo deja que de malos pasos
Aunque nunca desea su mal
Pero a ratos con furia golpea el piano
Y hay algunos que le han visto llorar

Oh-oh-la-ra-ra-lara-raaa
Lara -ra-lara-ra-a-a

Toca otra vez viejo perdedor
Haces que me sienta bien
Es tan triste la noche que tu canción
Sabe a derrota y miel

El micrófono huele a cerveza
Y el calor se podía tocar
Solitarios oscuros buscando pareja
Apurados un sábado más

Hay un hombre aferrado al piano
La emoción empapada en alcohol
Y una voz que le dice: pareces cansado
Y aún no ha salido ni el sol

La-la-la-lara-raaa-a-a
Lara -la-rarara-aaaa

Toca otra vez viejo perdedor
Haces que me sienta bien
Es tan triste la noche que tu canción
Sabe a derrota y a miel

The Piano Player

This is the story of a Saturday
What does it matter which month
And of a man sitting at the piano
What does it matter which old cafe

He takes the glass and his hands tremble
Stinking between smoke and sweat
And he holds on to his life raft
Returning to his eternal song

Oh-oh- la- ra- ra-lara- raaa
Lara-ra-lara-ra-a-a

Play again old loser
You make me feel good
The night is so sad that your song
Tastes like defeat and honey

Every time the mirror on the wall
Makes his skin look younger
His eyes light up and his childhood
Comes to play beside him

But there are always drunkards with drool
That remind him who he used to be
The youngest maestro at the piano
Defeated by a woman

Oh-oh-la-ra-lara-raaa
Lara-ra-lara-ra-a-a

She never wanted to grow roots
That could cut her wings
And caged in life was passing her
And she wanted to test her strength

He doesn't let her take any wrong steps
Though he never wishes her harm
But at times he hits the piano in anger
And there are some who have seen him cry

Oh-oh-la-ra-ra-lara-raaa
Lara -ra-lara-ra-a-a

Play again old loser
You make me feel good
The night is so sad that your song
Tastes like defeat and honey

The microphone smells like beer
And the heat could be touched
Lonely people looking for a partner
Hurrying on another Saturday

There is a man holding on to the piano
His emotion soaked in alcohol
And a voice that says: You seem tired
And the sun has not even risen yet

La-la-la-lara-raaa-a-a
Lara -la-rarara-aaaa

Play again old loser
You make me feel good
The night is so sad that your song
Tastes like defeat and honey