Текст и перевод песни Victor Heredia - Son Los Artistas Equilibristas

Son Los Artistas Equilibristas

Son los artistas, equilibristas

Son como niños, buscando abrigo,
Pájaros tristes, soñando amigos.
Entre el delirio y la cordura,
Juegan sus sueños de locura.
Sin los artistas, equilibristas,
En el andamio de sus engaños.
Vienen y van sin descansar,
Magos del aire, bufones, frailes
De un Dios de cristales de color.
De la risa al dolor y del llanto al amor,
Del drama a la comedia, hay de todo en la feria
Cuando levanta un hombre su telón.
Viven al día, sufren y esperan,
Son importantes, son emigrantes.
Fundan tablados, son adorados,
Son bien amados, son insultados.
Son buena gente entre la gente.
Pasan a solas sus malas horas.
Aplausos y fracasos, ahí están los artistas,
Poniéndole a la vida el corazón.

They are the equilibrists

They are the artists, equilibrists

They are like children, looking for shelter,
Sad birds, dreaming of friends.
Between delirium and sanity,
Play their dreams of madness.
Without the artists, equilibrists,
On the scaffolding of their deceptions.
Coming and going without rest,
Magicians of the air, buffoons, friars
Of a God of color glass.
From laughter to pain and from weeping to love,
From drama to comedy, there's something for everyone at the fair
When a man raises his curtain.
They live for the day, they suffer and they hope,
They are important, they are emigrants.
They found stages, they are adored,
They are well loved, they are insulted.
They are good people among people.
They spend their bad hours alone.
Applause and failures, there are the artists,
Putting their hearts into life.