Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Pupila de Águila, artist - Violeta Parra.
Date of issue: 16.12.1957
Song language: Spanish
Pupila de Águila(original) |
Un pajarillo vino a posarse bajo mi arbolito, |
era de noche, yo no podía ver su dibujito, |
se lamentaba de que una jaula lo hizo prisionero, |
que las plumillas, una por una, se las arrancaron. |
Quise curarlo con mi cariño, mas el pajarillo |
guardó silencio como una tumba hasta que amaneció. |
Llegan los claros de un bello día, el viento sacudió |
todo el ramaje de mi arbolito y allí se descubrió |
que el pajarillo tenía el alma más herida que yo, |
y por las grietas que le sangraban su vida se escapó, |
en su garganta dolido trino llora su corazón, |
le abrí mi canto y en mi vihuela lo repitió el bordón. |
Ya mejoraba, ya sonreía con mi medicina, |
cuando una tarde llegó una carta de su jaula antigua, |
en mi arbolillo brotaron flores negras y moradas |
porque el correo vino a buscarlo, mis ojos lloraban. |
Desaparece, me deja en prenda toda su amargura, |
se lleva ufano mi flor más tierna, mi sol y mi luna. |
En el momento de su partida, en mi cuello un collar |
dejó olvidado, y como Aladino yo le empecé a frotar. |
Pasan minutos, pasan las horas y toda una vida |
por el milagro de aquella joya lo he visto regresar, |
con más heridas, con más silencio y con garras largas, |
sus buenos días mi piel desgarra con ácida maldad. |
Ave que llega sin procedencia y no sabe dónde va |
es prisionera en su propio vuelo, ave mala será, |
ave maligna, siembra cizaña, bebe, calla y se va, |
cierra tu puente, cierra tu canto, tira la llave al mar. |
Un pajarillo vino llorando, lo quise consolar, |
toqué sus ojos con mi pañuelo, pupila de águila |
(translation) |
A little bird came to perch under my little tree, |
It was night, I couldn't see his little drawing of him, |
he lamented that a cage imprisoned him, |
that the pens, one by one, were torn out. |
I wanted to heal him with my love, plus the little bird |
it was silent as a grave until dawn. |
The clearings of a beautiful day arrive, the wind shook |
all the branches of my little tree and there it was discovered |
that the little bird had a more wounded soul than me, |
and through the cracks that bled his life from him he escaped, |
in his trilled hurt throat his heart cries out for him, |
I opened my song for him and the staff repeated it on my vihuela. |
He was already improving, he was already smiling with my medicine, |
when one afternoon a letter came from his old cage from him, |
black and purple flowers sprouted on my little tree |
because the mail came to get it, my eyes were crying. |
He disappears, he pledges all his bitterness to me, |
proudly takes my most tender flower, my sun and my moon. |
At the time of his departure from him, on my neck a necklace |
he left forgotten, and like Aladdin I began to rub him. |
Minutes go by, hours go by and a lifetime |
by the miracle of that jewel I have seen him return, |
with more wounds, with more silence and with long claws, |
his good morning tears my skin with acid malice. |
Bird that he arrives without origin and does not know where he is going |
It is a prisoner in its own flight, it will be a bad bird, |
evil bird, sow tares, drink, shut up and go, |
close your bridge, close your song, throw the key into the sea. |
A little bird came crying, I wanted to comfort it, |
I touched his eyes with my handkerchief, eagle pupil |