Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Ausencia, artist - Violeta Parra. Album song Chilean Folk Music (1958), Volume 1, in the genre Музыка мира
Date of issue: 19.03.2014
Record label: Black Round
Song language: Spanish
Ausencia(original) |
Cómo se han ido volando, ingrato |
Las raudas horas de un tiempo cruel |
Hoy de ti lejos y en otro campo |
Y de ti_a-mi-go tan cer-ca_a-yer |
Ayer tu mano sentí en la mía |
Con ardorosa y grata presión |
Hoy en los ayes de ardiente brisa |
A tus o-í-dos ir-á mi voz |
Por-que la_au-sen-cia_es tan cruel do-lor |
Cuando la noche su manto lóbrego |
Tienda en el valle y en la ciudad |
Pláceme, amigo, con tus recuerdos |
Pasar mis horas de soledad |
Y en cada estrella que centelleante |
Y que en el cielo veo lucir |
Parece, amigo, mirar tus ojos |
Que sonriendo me están a mi |
Tal vez sí loca, más cuán feliz |
Ya no sé, amigo, vivir alegre |
Como en un tiempo que ya se fue |
Tu amor ausente me tiene triste |
Nunca olvides quien te quiso bien |
Si acaso olvidas a quien te adora |
A quien un día el alma te dio |
Mañana acaso lánguida y mustia |
Sobre su tallo muera una flor |
Y su perfume no vuelva, no |
(translation) |
How they have flown away, ungrateful |
The swift hours of a cruel time |
Today from you far away and in another field |
And from you to me so close to yesterday |
Yesterday I felt your hand in mine |
With burning and pleasant pressure |
Today in the woes of a burning breeze |
To your o-í-two go-to my voice |
Because the_absence_is so cruel pain |
When the night her cloak of her gloomy |
Shop in the valley and in the city |
Pleasure me, friend, with your memories |
spend my lonely hours |
And in every star that twinkles |
And that in the sky I see shine |
It seems, friend, to look into your eyes |
That they are smiling at me |
Maybe yes crazy, but how happy |
I don't know anymore, friend, to live happily |
As in a time that has already gone |
Your absent love makes me sad |
Never forget who loved you well |
If you forget the one who adores you |
To whom one day the soul gave you |
Tomorrow perhaps languid and musty |
On her stem a flower dies |
And her perfume doesn't come back, no |