Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Lo Frágil De La Locura, artist - La Renga. Album song Despedazado Por Mil Partes, in the genre Иностранный рок
Date of issue: 31.12.1995
Record label: PolyGram Discos
Song language: Spanish
Lo Frágil De La Locura(original) |
La sangre se inquietaba en mis venas |
Y aquel verano al norte part |
Para olvidarme de mi rutina |
Y sentirme liberado al fin |
Ver la tierra baada de sol |
Respirar aire de las alturas |
Llenar el cuenco de mis ojos |
Con lo ms frgil de la locura |
Pero tambin la realidad mostr |
Otro reflejo en ella |
Cuando me habl de un hermano al que tambin |
Le llev la huella |
Ya que vas a escribir |
Dijo cuenta de mi pueblo |
Pobreza y dolor slo trajo el progreso |
La cultura de la traicin y los indios |
En los museos |
Me invit a mascar de su hierba |
Y a morder de la pura verdad |
Me pregunt de qu se ocupaban all, |
En la Capital |
Y yo slo tuve palabras para definir la injusticia |
Y qu slo aspiraban al fruto de la propia codicia |
(solo de guitarra) |
Al fin vi la tierra baada de sol |
Respir aire de las alturas |
Y llen el cuenco de mis ojos |
Con lo ms frgil de la locura |
Ya que vas a escribir |
Dijo cuenta de mi pueblo |
Pobreza y dolor slo trajo el progreso |
La cultura de la traicin y los indios |
En los museos |
(translation) |
The blood was restless in my veins |
And that summer to the north |
To forget about my routine |
And feel liberated at last |
See the land bathed in sun |
Breathe air from above |
Fill the bowl of my eyes |
With the most fragile of madness |
But reality also showed |
Another reflection in her |
When he told me about a brother he also |
I took the mark |
Since you are going to write |
Said account of my people |
Poverty and pain only brought progress |
The culture of betrayal and the Indians |
In the museums |
He invited me to chew his grass |
And to bite from the pure truth |
I wondered what they were doing there, |
In the capital |
And I only had words to define injustice |
And that they only aspired to the fruit of their own greed |
(Guitar solo) |
At last I saw the land bathed in sun |
Breathe air from above |
And fill the bowl of my eyes |
With the most fragile of madness |
Since you are going to write |
Said account of my people |
Poverty and pain only brought progress |
The culture of betrayal and the Indians |
In the museums |