"El Poema de la Lluvia Triste" as written by and Jose Mario Martinez Arroyo Fernando Ponce De Leon....
Se despertó a medianoche a mirar
Si el reflejo del agua podía encontrar
Aquella risa que un día mudó
Y, por segunda piel, de soledad se vistió

Buscó respuesta en el aire
Mientras el mar le arropó
Pidió ayuda a su estrella
Que le abandonó
Pues olvidó llorar

Llorar es purgar la pena
Deshidratar todo el miedo que hay en ti
Es sudar la angustia que te llena
Es llover tristeza para poder ser feliz

Cierra los ojos, abre el corazón
Y aprende a ver con los ojos del alma ella oyó
Le hablaba el viento, le hablaba una flor
Con la cadencia que tiene un susurro de amor

Deja salir los fantasmas
Que amargan besos y dan
A cambio de tus silencios
Acopio de ansiedad
Mutilada paz

Llorar es purgar la pena
Deshidratar todo el miedo que hay en ti
Es sudar la angustia que te llena
Es llover tristeza para poder ser feliz

Llorar es purgar la pena
Deshidratar todo el miedo que hay en ti
Es sudar la angustia que te llena
¡escucha, soy gaia!
¡no castres tu rabia!
¡que tu alma escupa el dolor!

Que llueva tristeza al llorar
Y que sacie la amargura su sed
Las lágrimas son el jabón
Que limpia de penas tu piel

Llorar es purgar la pena
Deshidratar todo el miedo que hay en ti
Es sudar la angustia que te llena
Es llover tristeza para poder ser feliz


Lyrics submitted by Elimination

"El Poema De La Lluvia Triste" as written by Fernando Ponce De Carlos Prieto Guijarro

Lyrics © SOCIEDAD GENERAL DE AUTORES DE ESPANA S G A E

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El Poema de la Lluvia Triste song meanings
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  • 0
    General CommentHere's a rough translation:

    The Poem of the Sad Rain

    She woke up at midnight to look
    if in the reflection of water she could find
    that smile that one day left,
    and, for a second skin, she wore loneliness.

    She looked for an answer in the wind
    while the sea wrapped around her
    She asked her star for help,
    but it abandoned her,
    because she forgot to cry.

    Crying is purging the sorrow,
    dehydrating all the fear within
    it's to sweat the angst that fills you
    it's raining sadness to be happy again.

    Crying is purging the sorrow,
    dehydrating all the fear within
    it's to sweat the angst that fills you
    it's raining sadness to be happy again.

    Close your eyes, open your heart,
    and learn to see with the eyes of the soul -she heard-
    The wind said, a flower said,
    with the cadence of a whisper of love.

    Set your ghosts free,
    the ones that make kisses bitter and give,
    in exchange for your silence,
    a collection of anxiety,
    mutilated Peace.

    Crying is purging the sorrow,
    dehydrating all the fear within
    it's to sweat the angst that fills you
    it's raining sadness to be happy again.

    Crying is purging the sorrow,
    dehydrating all the fear within
    it's to sweat the angst that fills you.
    Listen, I'm Gaia!
    Don't castrate your rage!
    Let your soul spit the pain!

    Let sadness rain when you cry,
    and let bitterness quench its thirst.
    Tears are the soap
    that washes the grief off your skin.

    Crying is purging the sorrow,
    dehydrating all the fear within
    it's to sweat the angst that fills you
    it's raining sadness to be happy again.

    Crying is purging the sorrow,
    dehydrating all the fear within
    it's to sweat the angst that fills you
    it's raining sadness to be happy again.

    Crying is purging the sorrow,
    dehydrating all the fear within
    it's to sweat the angst that fills you.
    Listen, I'm Gaia!
    Don't castrate your rage!
    Let your soul spit the pain!
    Eliminationon March 31, 2006   Link
  • 0
    General CommentStory's translation:

    Toledo, 1531

    The interior of the cell was narrow and very cold. So cold that the hope froze in the Soul, shattering it. Where was the air, the sun? Why had they locked her away in prison? Azaak didn't manage to reach the south and was intercepted and made prisoner by the spanish. Due to her extraordinary beauty and domination of the spanish language, she was taken to Spain with a load of gold that came from the Incan people. It was proof that it took a man, if possible, more cruel and greedy than cortés himself, that the Incan people possessed countless treasures. His name was Fransisco Pizarro.
    Beside her was Sara, -a beautiful jewish girl accused of dealing with the Devil-. The Holy Inquisition frowns upon an indigenous girl from India can speak fluent spanish. Besides, she claims the real God is the Pachamama. Sara is afraid and Azaak tells her a nice story from her town...
    Eliminationon April 08, 2006   Link

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