Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song La bohemia, artist - Buika. Album song Niña de fuego, in the genre Музыка мира
Date of issue: 18.05.2008
Record label: Warner Music Spain
Song language: Spanish
La bohemia(original) |
Bohemia de París |
Alegra lo que es gris |
De un tiempo ya pasado |
En donde en un desván con traje de can-can |
Posabas para mi y yo con devoción pintaba con pasión |
Tu cuerpo fatigado |
Hasta el amanecer, aveces sin comer y siempre sin dormir |
La bohemia, la bohemia |
Era el amor, felicidad |
La bohemia, la bohemia |
Era una flor de nuestra edad |
Debajo de un quintal |
La mesa del café, feliz nos reunía |
Hablando sin cesar |
Soñando con llegar |
La gloria conseguir |
Y cuando algún pintor hallaba un comprador |
Y un lienzo le vendía |
Solíamos gritar correr y pasear alegres por París |
La bohemia, la bohemia |
Era jurar que yo te ame |
La bohemia, la bohemia |
Yo junto a ti triunfar por él |
Teníamos salud, sonrisa, juventud y nada en los bolsillos |
Con frió con calor, el mismo buen humor |
Bailaba nuestro ser luchando siempre igual |
Con hambre hasta el final |
Hacíamos castillos, y el ansia de vivir |
Nos hizo resistir y no desfallecer |
La bohemia, la bohemia |
Era mirar y amanecer |
La bohemia, la bohemia |
Era soñar con un querer |
Me regrese a París |
Cruce su niebla gris |
Y lo encontré cambiado |
Las lilas ya no están |
Ni suben al desván |
Moradas de pasión |
Soñando como ayer |
Ronde por mi taller |
Mas ya lo han derrumbado |
Y han puesto en su lugar |
Abajo un café-bar y arriba una pensión |
La bohemia, la bohemia |
Que yo viví.solo se perdió |
La bohemia, la bohemia |
Era una flor y al fin murió… |
(translation) |
Bohemia of Paris |
Brighten what is gray |
of a time already past |
Where in a loft with a can-can suit |
You posed for me and with devotion I painted with passion |
your tired body |
Until dawn, sometimes without eating and always without sleeping |
The bohemian, the bohemian |
It was love, happiness |
The bohemian, the bohemian |
She was a flower of our age |
under a quintal |
The coffee table, happy we met |
talking endlessly |
dreaming of arriving |
get the glory |
And when some painter found a buyer |
And a canvas sold him |
We used to scream run and walk joyfully through Paris |
The bohemian, the bohemian |
It was to swear that I love you |
The bohemian, the bohemian |
Together with you, I will triumph for him |
We had health, smile, youth and nothing in our pockets |
With cold with heat, the same good mood |
Our being danced fighting always the same |
Hungry to the end |
We made castles, and the desire to live |
It made us resist and not give up |
The bohemian, the bohemian |
It was to look and dawn |
The bohemian, the bohemian |
It was dreaming of a love |
I went back to Paris |
Cross your gray mist |
And I found it changed |
The lilacs are gone |
They don't even go up to the attic |
abodes of passion |
dreaming like yesterday |
Rode through my workshop |
But they have already collapsed |
And they have put in its place |
Downstairs a café-bar and upstairs a pension |
The bohemian, the bohemian |
That I lived. it was only lost |
The bohemian, the bohemian |
It was a flower and finally it died... |