Текст и перевод песни Iratxo - Tiempo Pa Pensar

Tiempo Pa Pensar

Nunca le dio a probar la carne al perro que le mordía,
Y con un estropajo se limpiaba las heridas,
Al nacer con rabia sin prisa y sin mentira,
Así entendió lo malo que era la puta vida,

No dio el brazo a torcer aunque pincharan con puntillas,
La frontera estuvo cerca pero se la paso,
Ahora no tiene camino de regreso,
Pero quizás ni siquiera quiere volver,

Nunca hubo un poema pa el puño cerrado que golpea,
Un dolor de parto arrastrado por la arena,
Ahogo con la placenta la felicidad,
Y se llevo dos hostias por pisar sin mirar donde patea,

No dio un pa que, ni un porque,
Ni de donde las estrellas,
Ellas están allí, pa ellas la prisa es ajena,
Y bajan a ver lo que coño esta pasando,
Porque quizás tal vez ni siquiera quieren saber,

Mientras tanto,
Con el que dirán se han ido
Haciendo una bolsita y un cofre,
Pa esconder los deseos,
Los que no tienen tiempo para pensar,

Mientras tanto,
Se van cosiendo los descosiós del pecho,
De los que no tienen tiempo para pensar,
Que se la han robao, que se la han quitao,

Mientras tanto,
Sin ser cobarde una esquela de regalo,
Que pesa mucho la libertad,
Y al que llega tan lejos, que le quiten lo bailao,

Time to Think

He never let the dog that bit him taste meat,
And with a scourer he would clean his wounds,
Since birth with rabies, without haste and without lies,
That's how he understood how bad this fucking life was,

He didn't give in, even though they stabbed him with tacks,
The border was close but he crossed it,
Now he has no way to go back,
But perhaps he doesn't even want to return,

There was never a poem for the clenched fist that hits,
A birth pain dragged through the sand,
Drowning with the placenta happiness,
And he took two slaps for stepping without looking where he was kicking,

He didn't give a what for, nor a why,
Nor from where the stars,
They are up there, for them the hurry is alien,
And they come down to see what the hell is happening,
Because perhaps, maybe, they don't even want to know,

Meanwhile,
With the they'll say they've gone
Making a bag and a chest,
To hide the desires,
Those that don't have time to think,

Meanwhile,
They sew up the tears in their chest,
Of those who don't have time to think,
That it has been stolen from them, that it has been taken away from them,

Meanwhile,
Without being a coward, an obituary as a gift,
Because freedom weighs heavy,
And to those who go so far, let them take away the fun,