Текст и перевод песни ZPU - Velatorio

Velatorio

Dicen que era un ángel
Que tenía un gran corazón,
Que era un polizón del barco de la vida,
Que vestía un armazón.
Tras un tropezón se alzaba, resurgía,
Que era un cabezón, tenía el don de dar si sonreía.
Lo hacía con los ojos; ya quedan pocos de esos.
Su enojo era una brizna comparado con sus besos.
Si alguna vez rozaron sus mejillas o sus labios,
Desaparecieron las rencillas, llantos, los agravios.
Dicen que era mágico,
Un genio de versos trágicos
Que le entregó su vida al papel sin condiciones.
¿Si le pudo el pánico? Abanicó las dudas.
Que sus ataduras mas duras forjaron sus canciones.
Que nunca dio lecciones de engreído, ni consejos,
Que en sus oraciones siempre alejó los falsos reflejos.
Si dejó algo fue a sí mismo junto a sus valores,
Dicen que amaba las flores, que siempre se van los mejores.
Que charlaba con la luna y con el sol,
Que su nunca era una cuna de botellas de alcohol.
Su vacuna fue la ayuda de allegados más próximos,
Su código una cura para lograr sus propósitos.
Y que siempre estuvo para echar un cable,
Que era un indomable y echaba de menos a su padre.
Que fue un sable contra el miserable y el arpío,
Que ha dejado un río, un vacío inconmensurable.

Dicen que la depresión le robó la alegría,
Que se hundía en pozos de melancolía,
Que su vía de escape frente al atrape era el papel,
Que se amaban en un carrusel de roces y caricias sin cuartel.
Que en su Torre de Babel eran felices, dicen,
Que su mente era un pincel,
Que fue vago por los tragos que clavaron su cincel
Bajo su piel; piel que engaña, que su alma siempre nos ha sido fiel.
Que ante las lágrimas nos sostuvo su hombro,
Siempre estuvo, llenó un cubo cuando tocó cada fondo,
Y su peso le arrojó a las turbias manos de la sinrazón,
Y como todos ya se ha convertido en polvo.
Que nadie se escapa, que fue su única certeza,
Que trazó mil mapas dentro de un rompecabezas.
Dicen que sus piezas nunca han estado tan juntas,
Que sintió el menosprecio que sufren los que despuntan.
Dicen que vivió como si no hubiera un mañana,
Que el cemento fue su cárcel y la lluvia su nana,
Que su ángel fue su mamá, y su fe congelada,
Que esto con el tiempo sana, dicen que no somos nada.
Que lo amaban por lo irrepetible,
Que su mirada atravesaba lo invisible.
Que soñaba lo imposible para con sí mismo,
Que era un niño grande jugando al idealismo.

Dicen tantas cosas que no sé quién fue.
Dicen que nos mira desde arriba que aún nos acompaña.
Dicen que le extrañan.
Cuentan que su mente navegó en un mar de quizás.
Dicen que su corazón latió hecho trizas,
Mientras velan sus cenizas.

Dicen que brindemos, que él lo quiso así,
Que hay que celebrarle por los que estamos aquí
Todavía, que no hay día que no vaya a ser el último,
Que decía que se iría en pleno júbilo...
Mirándolo en decúbito parece estar en paz.
Que ahora vuela en aquella estrella fugaz,
Cruza el cielo, suelta el miedo en cada haz de luz,
Por eso haz de tus días alegrías.
Dicen que en ese ataúd
Marcha un joven sin Nobel pero más sabio
Que aprendió que el amor no siente en binario.
Que supo que no hay calendario que defina el tiempo,
Que el tiempo es un invento, dicen que él ha sido el cambio.
Dicen que no habrá perdices, que él no come carne,
Su vida fue un dibujo sin lujos pero sin hambre.
Dicen que los brujos le dieron esas pulseras,
Que el influjo de sus letras tocó génesis enteras,
Que de veras mis sinceras condolencias.
Que no hay ciencias
Ni creencias que palien su ausencia.
Que está vivo en su recuerdo
Y no dejarán que muera,
Que era un loco cuerdo,
Dicen que lo ven grabar en la pecera.
Dicen que era dos mitades en lucha constante,
Que capturó el instante,
Que su talante tolerante le trajo mil vidas,
Que hizo idas y venidas por el infierno de Dante.
Dicen que fue amante y compañero,
Que jamás encontrarán algún amor tan sincero
Sin velos en los ojos,
Ni pelos en la lengua,
Con miles de cerrojos
Para una bondad tan ingenua.
Dicen que las deudas le agobiaban,
Que quizá fue eso.
Dicen que fue el peso de las pérdidas.
Dicen: 'Fue un abrazo que nunca le dieron'.
Dicen que fue un beso que no llegó por milésimas.

Dicen tantas cosas que no sé quién fue.
Dicen que nos mira desde arriba que aún nos acompaña.
Dicen que le extrañan.
Cuentan que su mente navegó en un mar de quizás.
Dicen que su corazón latió hecho trizas,
Mientras velan sus cenizas.

Wake

They say they were an angel,
That they had a big heart,
A stowaway on the ship of life,
Wearing a fragile frame.
After a stumble, they'd rise again, resurface,
A stubborn soul, with the gift of giving through a smile.
They did it with their eyes; there are few left like that.
Their anger was a breeze compared to their kisses.
If you ever brushed their cheeks or lips,
Quarrels, tears, grievances vanished.
They say they were magical,
A genius of tragic verses,
Who gave their life to paper unconditionally.
Did panic overcome them? They fanned away doubts.
Their harshest bonds forged their songs.
They never gave arrogant lessons, nor advice,
In their prayers, they always cast away false reflections.
If they left anything, it was themself, along with their values,
They say they loved flowers, that the best always leave.
That they chatted with the moon and the sun,
That their "never" was a cradle of alcohol bottles.
Their vaccine was the help of their closest ones,
Their code, a cure to achieve their goals.
And they were always there to lend a hand,
An indomitable spirit who missed their father.
They were a saber against the wretched and the harpy,
Leaving behind a river, an immeasurable void.

They say depression stole their joy,
That they sank into wells of melancholy,
Their escape route from the trap was paper,
They loved each other in a carousel of relentless touches and caresses.
They were happy in their Tower of Babel, they say,
Their mind was a brush,
They were lazy because of the drinks that sharpened their chisel
Under their skin; skin that deceives, but their soul has always been faithful.
Their shoulder held us up through tears,
They were always there, filling a bucket as they reached each bottom,
And their weight threw them into the murky hands of madness,
And like everyone else, they have turned to dust.
That no one escapes, that was their only certainty,
They traced a thousand maps within a puzzle.
They say their pieces have never been so close,
They felt the contempt suffered by those who stand out.
They say they lived as if there were no tomorrow,
The concrete was their prison, the rain their lullaby,
Their angel was their mother, their faith frozen,
That time heals everything, they say we are nothing.
That they were loved for being unique,
Their gaze pierced the invisible.
They dreamed the impossible for themself,
They were a big kid playing at idealism.

They say so many things, I don't know who they were.
They say they watch us from above, that they still accompany us.
They say they miss them.
They say their mind sailed in a sea of maybes.
They say their heart beat in pieces,
While they watch over their ashes.

They say let's toast, that they wanted it this way,
That we should celebrate them for those of us who are still here
Today, that there's no day that won't be the last,
They said they would leave in full jubilation...
Looking at them lying down, they seem to be at peace.
That now they fly on that shooting star,
Crossing the sky, releasing fear in each beam of light,
That's why you should make your days full of joy.
They say in that coffin
Goes a young person without a Nobel, but wiser,
Who learned that love doesn't feel in binary.
They knew there is no calendar that defines time,
That time is an invention, they say they were the change.
They say there will be no partridges, that they don't eat meat,
Their life was a drawing without luxuries, but without hunger.
They say witches gave them those bracelets,
That the influence of their words touched entire geneses,
That truly, my sincere condolences.
That there are no sciences
Nor beliefs that alleviate their absence.
That they are alive in their memory
And they won't let them die,
That they were a sane madman,
They say they see them recording in the fishbowl.
They say they were two halves in constant struggle,
That they captured the moment,
That their tolerant nature brought them a thousand lives,
That they made comings and goings through Dante's inferno.
They say they were a lover and companion,
That they will never find such sincere love
Without veils on their eyes,
Nor hairs on their tongue,
With thousands of locks
For such naive kindness.
They say debts overwhelmed them,
That maybe that was it.
They say it was the weight of losses.
They say: 'It was a hug they never received'.
They say it was a kiss that didn't arrive by milliseconds.

They say so many things, I don't know who they were.
They say they watch us from above, that they still accompany us.
They say they miss them.
They say their mind sailed in a sea of maybes.
They say their heart beat in pieces,
While they watch over their ashes.