Lyrics of No Quiero Ser Un Poeta - Marea

No Quiero Ser Un Poeta (original)

Se peinará un poquito y se pondrá tan guapa
Y saldrá musitando sus cosas al alba
Y a mí me hará falta algo más que agua del grifo
Pa quitarme las legañas,
A mí, hecho de nada,
Nada mezclada con el humo de los bares,
De nada vale si no cuenta tus lunares,
Ay del que intenta conquistar la luna entera
Con algún verso de mierda, separarla de mi vera,
Miralá toa sonriente aunque le cante malamente
Muy tranquila y muy quieta, porque con ella no,
No quiero ser un poeta,
Se peinará un poquito y se pondrá tan guapa
Y yo a pintarme canas de tanto esperarla,
Que a mí la madrugada me lava toda la ropa
Sucia del alma que ensuciaré seguramente
A la mañana, a mí quitame alas, tirame al suelo
Quiero estar donde me llaman, que desde el cielo
El corazón no huele a nada,
Ay del que intenta conquistar la luna entera
Con algún verso de mierda, separarla de mi vera,
Mírala toa sonriente aunque le cante malamente,
Muy tranquila y muy quieta, porque con ella no,
No quiero ser un poeta.

(translation)

She will comb her hair a little and she will be so pretty
And she will go out muttering her things at dawn
And I'll need more than tap water
To remove the legañas,
To me, made of nothing,
Nothing mixed with the smoke from the bars,
It's worth nothing if you don't count your moles,
Woe to the one who tries to conquer the entire moon
With some shitty verse, separate her from me,
Look at her smiling even if she sings badly
Very calm and very still, because not with her,
I don't want to be a poet,
She will comb her hair a little bit and she will be so pretty
And I'm going to paint gray hair from waiting for her so long,
That at dawn he washes all my clothes
Dirty of the soul that I will surely dirty
In the morning, take my wings off me, throw me to the ground
I want to be where they call me, that from heaven
The heart does not smell of anything,
Woe to the one who tries to conquer the entire moon
With some shitty verse, separate her from me,
Look at her smiling even though she sings badly,
Very calm and very still, because not with her,
I don't want to be a poet.