Текст и перевод песни Forraje - Aunque El Viento Sople

Aunque El Viento Sople

Miles de historias...
Son cientos de noches sin dormir, son sueños
Que despierto puedes vivir aunque te apriete el pecho
Y sigas echando de menos aquel instante
Que ya nunca va a volver.

Y pensando
Te has dado cuenta de que
Aunque sople el viento
No es un buen momento
Se nos ha echado encima el temporal.

Que sople lo que quiera,
Que tirado en la hierba
Todo el día pienso estar,
Que se traiga a quien quiera
P'a pisar mis ideas,
Nunca conseguirá entrar.

Que le he abierto la puerta,
Le he encerrao en sus rejas,
No podrá hacerme callar,
Si es que de mi garganta
Nunca han salido balas,
¿A quién puedo yo matar?

Que pienso lo que quiera
Y no me quemo en tu hoguera,
No me haces falta p'a na,
Ya he visto tu manera
De cortarme la lengua,
De no dejar respirar.

Que sople lo que quiera,
Que tiraos en la hierba
Todo el día vamos a estar,
Que se traiga a quien quiera
P'a pisar nuestras ideas,
Nunca conseguirá entrar.

Que la puerta está abierta,
Está atrapado en sus rejas,
No podrá hacernos callar,
Si de nuestras guitarras
Nunca salieron balas,
¿A quién vamos a matar?

Pensamos lo que sea,
Tu llama no nos quema,
No nos duele respirar,
Ya vimos tu manera
De cortarnos la lengua,
No te vamos a aguantar.

Even If The Wind Blows

A thousand stories...
These are hundreds of sleepless nights, they are dreams
That you can live while awake, even if your chest tightens
And you keep missing that moment
That will never come again.

And thinking
You have realized that
Even if the wind blows
It's not a good time
The storm is upon us.

Let it blow as it will,
That I'll lie in the grass
I plan to spend all day there,
Let it bring whomever it wants
To trample on my ideas,
It will never succeed in entering.

That I have opened the door to it,
I have locked it in its bars,
It will not be able to silence me,
If from my throat
No bullets have ever come out,
Whom can I kill?

That I think what I want
And I don't burn in your pyre,
I don't need you for anything,
I have already seen your way
Of cutting my tongue,
Of not letting me breathe.

Let it blow as it will,
That we'll lie down in the grass
We're going to be there all day,
Let it bring whomever it wants
To trample on our ideas,
It will never succeed in entering.

That the door is open,
It is trapped in its bars,
It will not be able to silence us,
If from our guitars
No bullets have ever come out,
Whom are we going to kill?

We think whatever we want,
Your flame does not burn us,
We can breathe without pain,
We have already seen your way
Of cutting our tongues,
We are not going to put up with you.