Paroles et traduction Canserbero - De Mi Muerte, Pt. 2

De Mi Muerte, Pt. 2

No te olvides del prójimo si se te multiplica el pan
ríete en la tristeza llora de alegría
y no olvides que cada dia que pasa se acorta tu vida
ser feliz no puede quien no sabe lo que quiere empieza
a ser tu mismo y deja ya de ser quien eres
mere que imitaciones abundan originales escasean
y los chances son como las mareas
van y vienen pasan por el frente no se detienen
atrévete a amar y deja e' llora por lo que no tienes
nunca debes dejar que un comentario te complique
porque aun mejorando el mundo alguien habrá que te critique y dije
Para!
Has que despierte y juro voi a cantar todo esto es sus caras
el anciano acepto y chasqueo sus dedos mientras
suspiraba pero sorpresa mia fue al ver donde me despertaba
me hallaba en un ataúd rodeado de toda mi gente
llorando mi cadáver que podía mirar sonriente
no era mi subconsciente
(No era un sueño se trataba de una verdad)
y recorri mi velorio atravesando a los presentes
excepto en esta escena estuve yo soñando siempre
se trataba de mi muerte
(Se trataba de mi se trataba de mi se trataba de mi)
al caminar lamente irme de este mundo amargo
sin terminar la misión por la cual ando penando
la cual se trata de cantar lo narrado
por el anciano aquel que al yo morir nunca será escuchado y dije Para!

Of My Death, Pt. 2

Don't forget your neighbor if your bread multiplies,
laugh in sadness, cry in joy,
and don't forget that each day that passes shortens your life.
He who doesn't know what he wants cannot be happy. Start
being yourself and stop being who you are,
because imitations abound, originals are scarce,
and chances are like tides,
they come and go, they pass by, they don't stop.
Dare to love and stop crying for what you don't have.
You should never let a comment complicate you,
because even if you improve the world, someone will criticize you, and I said
Stop!
Wake him up and I swear I'll sing all this in their faces.
The old man agreed and snapped his fingers while
he sighed, but my surprise was to see where I woke up.
I found myself in a coffin surrounded by all my people,
crying over my corpse that I could see smiling.
It wasn't my subconscious
(It wasn't a dream, it was a truth)
and I walked through my wake, passing through those present,
except in this scene I was always dreaming.
It was about my death
(It was about me, it was about me, it was about me)
As I walked, I regretted leaving this bitter world
without finishing the mission for which I'm suffering,
which is to sing what was narrated
by the old man who, when I die, will never be heard, and I said Stop!