Текст и перевод песни Karin B. - Catarsis

Catarsis

Séptimo día de la semana, y
O en aquella imaginaria línea de tiempo que separa el TODO y NADA,
El cielo está tan alto que al mirar los ojos duelen,
Ríos de luz bañan nostalgias y tú recuerdo palidece, bu
Squé estas palabras en el vacío de nuestro nido esas ruinas de
Silencio a gritos y un latir furtivo que hacía caer las hojas en el
Otoño constante en el que esos
Fantasmas tuyos danzaban tan incesantes.
Siete musas fueron testigos del vuelo de mi cenizas otro siete que se
Sumó a la ecuación de tu partida y que trajo a mí tu aroma desde
Esquinas de Roma y de ser un gladiador habría vivido en las mazmorras
O si fuese necesario habría acabado con Esparta por besarte la
Garganta y besarte la palabras antes que estás ya brotaran
Y respirar el aire que impulsabas cuando suave susurrabas.
La frescura de tus palabras cambió con el tiempo esas ha no eran
Palabras solo eran aire seco impulsadas por el orgullo y tu ego
Moribundo cuando el rocío de tus lágrimas no quebraban mis muros, t
E colgadas de mi cuello como si fuese a salvar tu vida,
Yo prensado en tus caderas solo perdiendo la mía,
El vacío es indestructible y me llenaste de su aura,
En el banquillo del destierro me liberé de tu fragancia.
No eran mis brazos que buscabas eran los brazos de alguien,
Mí calor no necesitabas era el calor de alguien,
Destruí esa costumbre que solía llamar AMOR de luchar contra
Fantasmas en contra del propio dolor,
Gotas de ácido en mis nervios hicieron saltar a una bestia que
Maldecía cada flujo en el correr de la existencia,
Luego de hacerme añicos y extrañar tu veneno ya mí
Esperanza no te nombra ya te has muerto en estos versos...
Ya te has muerto en estos versos...
Ya te has muerto en estos versos

Catharsis

Seventh day of the week, and
Or in that imaginary timeline that separates EVERYTHING and NOTHING,
The sky is so high that when you look at it, your eyes hurt,
Rivers of light bathe nostalgia and your memory fades, bu
I wish these words were in the emptiness of our nest, those ruins of
Screaming silence and a furtive throbbing that made leaves fall in
The constant autumn in which those
Your ghosts danced so incessantly.
Seven muses were witnesses to the flight of my ashes, another seven that
Added to the equation of your departure and that brought me your scent from
Corners of Rome and if I were a gladiator I would have lived in the dungeons
Or if necessary I would have wiped out Sparta to kiss your
Throat and kiss your words before they even sprang
And breathe the air you were pushing when you softly whispered.
The freshness of your words changed over time; those were not
Words, they were just dry air driven by your pride and your dying
Ego when the dew of your tears did not break down my walls, t
They hung around my neck as if I were going to save your life,
Me pinned on your hips only losing mine,
The emptiness is indestructible and you filled me with its aura,
On the bench of exile I freed myself from your fragrance.
It was not my arms you were looking for, they were someone else's arms,
You didn't need my warmth, it was someone else's warmth,
I destroyed that custom I used to call LOVE of fighting against
Ghosts against one's own pain,
Drops of acid on my nerves made a beast jump out that
Cursed every flow in the course of existence,
After shattering me and missing your poison for myself
Hope doesn't name you anymore, you've already died in these verses...
You've already died in these verses...
You've already died in these verses