Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Rin del angelito, artist - Inti Illimani. Album song Viva italia, in the genre Латиноамериканская музыка
Date of issue: 13.03.2007
Record label: Storie di note
Song language: Spanish
Rin del angelito(original) |
Ya se va para los cielos |
ese querido angelito |
a rogar por sus abuelos |
por sus padres y hermanitos. |
Cuando se muere la carne |
el alma busca su sitio |
adentro de una amapola |
o dentro de un pajarito. |
La tierra lo est? |
esperando |
con su coraz? |
n abierto |
por eso es que el angelito |
parece que est? |
despierto. |
Cuando se muere la carne |
el alma busca su centro |
en el brillo de una rosa |
o de un pececito nuevo. |
En su cunita de tierra |
lo arrullar? |
una campana |
mientras la lluvia le limpia |
su carita en la ma? |
ana. |
Cuando se muere la carne |
el alma busca su diana |
en el misterio del mundo |
que le ha abierto su ventana. |
Las mariposas alegres |
de ver el bello angelito |
alrededor de su cuna |
le caminan despacito. |
Cuando se muere la carne |
el alma va derechito |
a saludar a la luna |
y de paso al lucerito. |
Ad? |
nde se fue su gracia |
y a d? |
nde fue su dulzura |
porque se cae su cuerpo |
como la fruta madura. |
Cuando se muere la carne |
el alma busca en la altura |
la explicaci? |
n de su vida |
cortada con tal premura, |
la explicaci? |
n de su muerte |
prisionera en una tumba. |
Cuando se muere la carne |
el alma se queda oscura. |
(translation) |
It's already going to the skies |
that dear little angel |
to pray for their grandparents |
by his parents and siblings. |
When the meat dies |
the soul looks for its place |
inside a poppy |
or inside a little bird. |
The land is? |
waiting for |
with your heart? |
n open |
that's why the little angel |
it seems that he is |
awake. |
When the meat dies |
the soul seeks its center |
in the glow of a rose |
or a new fish. |
In his little cradle of land |
coo it? |
a bell |
while the rain cleanses him |
his little face of him in my? |
Ana. |
When the meat dies |
the soul seeks its target |
in the mystery of the world |
that has opened its window. |
The happy butterflies |
to see the beautiful little angel |
around his crib |
they walk him slowly. |
When the meat dies |
the soul goes straight |
to greet the moon |
and by the way to the lucerito. |
eh? |
where did his grace go |
and to d? |
where was your sweetness |
because his body falls |
like ripe fruit. |
When the meat dies |
the soul seeks in the height |
the explanation |
n of his life |
cut with such haste, |
the explanation |
n of his death |
prisoner in a tomb. |
When the meat dies |
the soul remains dark. |