Lyrics and translation Nacha Guevara - A Donde Van

A Donde Van

Adónde van las palabras que no se dijeron.
Adónde van las miradas que un día partieron.
Acaso flotan eternas, como prisioneras de un ventarrón,
O se acurrucan entre las rendijas
Buscando calor.
Acaso ruedan sobre los cristales
Cual gotas de lluvia queriendo pasar.
Acaso nunca vuelven a ser algo.
Acaso se van.
Y adónde van.
Adónde van.
¿En qué se habrán convertido mis viejos zapatos?
¿Adónde fueron a dar las hojitas del árbol?
¿Y dónde están las angustias,
Que desde tus ojos brotaron por mí?
¿Adónde fueron mis palabras sucias
De sangre de abril?
¿Adónde van ahora mismo estos versos
Que no puedo nunca dejar de alumbrar?
Acaso nunca vuelven a ser algo.
Acaso se van.
Y adónde van.
Adónde van.
Adónde va lo común, lo de todos los días.
El descalzarse en la puerta y la mano amiga.
Adónde va la sorpresa
Casi cotidiana del atardecer.
Adónde va el mantel de la mesa
Y el café de ayer.
Adónde van los pequeños,
Terribles encantos que tienen hogar.
Acaso nunca vuelven a ser algo
Acaso se van.
Y adónde van.
Adónde van.
Acaso se van.

Where Do They Go

Where do the words that were left unsaid go.
Where do the gazes that once set out go.
Do they perhaps float eternally, like prisoners of a whirlwind,
Or do they huddle between the cracks
Seeking warmth.
Perhaps they roll down the panes
Like raindrops wanting to pass through.
Perhaps they never become anything again.
Perhaps they go away.
And where do they go.
Where do they go.
What might have become of my old shoes?
Where did the little leaves of the tree end up?
And where are the anxieties
That flowed from your eyes for me?
Where did my obscene words go
From the blood of April?
Where are these very verses going now
That I can never stop illuminating?
Perhaps they never become anything again.
Perhaps they go away.
And where do they go.
Where do they go.
Where does the mundane, the everyday, go.
The taking off of shoes at the door and the friendly hand.
Where does the surprise go
Almost daily of the sunset.
Where does the tablecloth go
And yesterday's coffee.
Where do the little ones go,
The terrible charms that have a home.
Perhaps they never become anything again.
Perhaps they go away.
And where do they go.
Where do they go.
Perhaps they go away.