Текст и перевод песни Ocata - Caracoles

Caracoles

Saliendo del teatro de Canal,
Me encontré a tu amiga Irene

- Hola, ¿qué tal?, ¿cómo te va con Joan?
- Pues la verdad, no me puedo quejar.

Y eso fue, lo último que oí
Solo pensaba en dar recuerdos para ti.

Pero callé, y hablé de mí
Y de que junio me voy a Reykjavik.

Si pudiera volverte a hablar,
La verdad, no sabría por dónde empezar.

A menudo me repito convencido,
Que ya no estás dentro de mi cabeza,
Que no me importa quien te quita el vestido.

Te ve el sostén, quién se levanta contigo.

Quiero llamarte para ir a echar unos vinos
Y demostrar que solo somos dos amigos.

Quiero contarte mi último rollito,
Y ver cómo te jode un poquito.

Si pudiera volverte a hablar
La verdad, no sabría por dónde empezar.

Si pudiera oírte hablar,
Dejaría que llevaras el compás.

Al final, decidí no llamarte.

No quiero que me cuentes
Que todo te va genial
O que todo te va tan, tan mal.

Prefiero escucharte en nuestras canciones
Y prefiero verte en nuestras películas.

Prefiero olerte en los caracoles
De un domingo cualquiera.

Snails

Leaving the Canal theatre,
I bumped into your friend Irene

- Hi, how are you? How are things with Joan?
- Well, I can't complain, really.

And that was it, the last I heard
I was only thinking about sending you my regards.

But I kept quiet, and I talked about myself
And that I'm going to Reykjavik in June.

If I could talk to you again,
I really wouldn't know where to start.

I often repeat to myself, convinced,
That you're no longer in my head,
That I don't care who gets you out of your dress.

He sees your bra, he who gets up with you.

I want to call you and go for a few drinks
And show that we're just two friends.

I want to tell you about my latest fling,
And see how it breaks your heart a little.

If I could talk to you again
Honestly, I wouldn't know where to start.

If I could hear you talk,
I'd let you lead the way.

In the end, I decided not to call you.

I don't want you to tell me
That everything's going great for you
Or that everything is going so, so badly.

I'd rather hear you in our songs
And I'd rather see you in our movies.

I'd rather smell you in the snails
Of any Sunday.