Текст и перевод песни Mimi - El Hombre del Piano

El Hombre del Piano

Esta es la historia de un sábado,
De no importa que mes,
Y de un hombre sentado al piano,
De no importa que viejo café.

Toma el vaso y le tiemblan las manos
Apestando entre humo y sudor
Y se agarra a su tabla de náufrago
Volviendo a su eterna canción.
La, laaaa lalalaaa

Laralalalalaaaalalaaa.

Toca otra vez viejo perdedor
Haces que me sienta bien,

Es tan triste la noche que tu canción
Sabe a derrota y a miel.

Cada vez que el espejo de la pared
Le devuelve más joven la piel
Se le encienden los ojos y su niñez
Viene a tocar junto a él.
Pero siempre hay borrachos con babas
Que le recuerdan quién fue,
El más joven maestro al piano
Vencido por una mujer.
Laaaraaaalaalaaaa
Laralaaraalaaaalalaaalala.
Ella siempre temió echar raíces
Que pudieran sus alas cortar
Y en la jaula metida, la vida se le iba
Y quiso sus fuerzas probar
No lamenta que dé malos pasos
Aunque nunca desea su mal
Pero a ratos con furia golpea el piano
Y hay algunos que le han visto llorar
Laaaraaaalaalaaaa
Laralaaraalaaaalalaaa,
Toca otra vez viejo perdedor

Haces que me sienta bien
Es tan triste la noche que tu canción
Sabe a derrota y a miel

El micrófono huele a cerveza
Y el calor se podría cortar
Solitarios oscuros buscando pareja
Apurándose un sábado más.

Hay un hombre aferrado a un piano
La emoción empapada en alcohol
Y una voz que le dice: "pareces cansado"
Y aún no ha salido ni el Sol
Lalaralalaaa
Laralararalalala
Toca otra vez viejo perdedor
Haces que me sienta bien
Es tan triste la noche que tu canción
Sabe a derrota y a miel.

The Man at the Piano

This is the story of a Saturday,
Of no matter what month,
And of a man sitting at the piano,
Of no matter what old cafe.

He takes the glass and his hands tremble
Stinking between smoke and sweat
And he clings to his life raft
Returning to his eternal song.
La, laaaa lalalaaa

Laralalalalaaaalalaaa.

Play it again, old loser
You make me feel good,

The night is so sad that your song
Tastes like defeat and honey.

Each time the mirror on the wall
Gives him back his younger skin
His eyes light up and his childhood
Comes to play next to him.
But there are always drunkards with drool
Who remind him who he was,
The youngest master at the piano
Defeated by a woman.
Laaaraaaalaalaaaa
Laralaaraalaaaalalaaalala.
She always feared putting down roots
That might cut her wings
And caged, her life was slipping away
And she wanted to test her strength
She doesn't regret taking the wrong steps
Even though she never wishes him harm
But at times she furiously pounds the piano
And there are those who have seen her cry
Laaaraaaalaalaaaa
Laralaaraalaaaalalaaa,
Play it again, old loser

You make me feel good
The night is so sad that your song
Tastes like defeat and honey

The microphone smells like beer
And the heat could be cut
Dark loners looking for a partner
Rushing on one more Saturday.

There's a man clinging to a piano
Emotion soaked in alcohol
And a voice that says to him: "you look tired"
And the sun has not yet risen
Lalaralalaaa
Laralararalalala
Play it again, old loser
You make me feel good
The night is so sad that your song
Tastes like defeat and honey.