Текст и перевод песни Iratxo - Tiempo Para Pensar

Tiempo Para 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 que se la paso,
Ahora no tiene camino de regreso,
Pero quizás ni siquiera...
Pero quizás ni siquiera quiere volver,
Pero quizás ni siquiera quiere volver,
Pero quizás ni siquiera quiere volver,
Pero quizás ni siquiera quiere volver.

Nunca hubo un poema pa el puño cerrado que golpea,
Un dolor de parto arrastrado por la arena,
Ahogó 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...
Porque quizás tal vez ni siquiera quieren saber,
Porque quizás tal vez ni siquiera quieren saber,
Porque quizás tal vez ni siquiera quieren saber,
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 llegan tan lejos, que le quiten lo bailao.

Time to Think

I never let the dog that bit me taste the meat,
And I would clean my wounds with a scourer,
Born with rabies, without haste and without lies,
That's how I understood how bad this fucking life was,

I didn't give in even though they pricked me with tacks,
The border was close, so I crossed it,
Now there's no way back,
But maybe not even...
But maybe not even you want to go back,
But maybe not even you want to go back,
But maybe not even you want to go back,
But maybe not even you want to go back.

There was never a poem for the clenched fist that strikes,
A labor pain dragged across the sand,
With the placenta, it drowned happiness,
And got two slaps for stepping without looking where he was going,

I didn't ask why or what for,
Or where the stars came from,
They're up there, for them the rush is foreign,
And come down to see what the hell is going on,
'Cause maybe perhaps...
'Cause maybe perhaps you don't even want to know,
'Cause maybe perhaps you don't even want to know,
'Cause maybe perhaps you don't even want to know,
'Cause maybe perhaps you don't even want to know,

In the meantime,
With what they say has gone,
Making a bag and a chest,
To hide the desires,
The ones who don't have time to think,

In the meantime,
They're sewing up the unstitiched wounds of their chest,
Of those who don't have time to think,
That it has been stolen from them, that it has been taken from them,

In the meantime,
Not being a coward, an obituary as a gift,
That freedom weighs a lot,
And for those who get that far, let them take away what has been danced.