Flor Seca En Tu Cuaderno

Let the flower wither in your hands
Enjoy its beauty while it exists
Don't try to stop neither laughter nor tears
It's better to feel that you lived it
Let it turn to ashes and be carried away by the wind
Since nothing is eternal
It's better the flower that withers in your hand
Than a dry flower among the pages of your notebook.

I trap time like a flower in a notebook
Everything stops and becomes eternal
The clock hands remain still and obedient
Under the spell of not seeing you again
Years pass, days pass
Hours tire in infinite chains
And the colors and perfumes
And even the features are forgotten
And no memory has life
Because I turned this notebook into a prison
To keep you day by day.

Let the flower wither in your hands
Enjoy its beauty while it exists
Don't try to stop neither laughter nor tears
It's better to feel that you lived it
Let it turn to ashes and be carried away by the wind
Since nothing is eternal
It's better the flower that withers in your hand
Than a dry flower among the pages of your notebook.

Then one day casually
Impertinent as I turn the pages, you appear to me
And the punishment of eternity breaks
And you return as a traveler from the inn to visit me
Among shadows and to punish the one who hurt you
With the worst of punishments: that of forgetting
Because I caught nothing between those pages
Trying to deceive nature as I fancy
With the false certainty that nothing happens
The tree to live it bury it make it forgotten
And here nothing happened

Ohuo...
Nothing happened here
Ohuo...
And here I am with the false certainty that nothing happens
The tree to live it bury it make it forgotten and here nothing happened.

Let the flower wither in your hands
Enjoy its beauty while it exists
Don't try to stop neither laughter nor tears
It's better to feel that you lived it
Let it turn to ashes and be carried away by the wind
Since nothing is eternal
It's better the flower that withers in your hand
Than a dry flower among the pages of your notebook.

I didn't make the mistake of exhausting you
Of living you completely, of plucking you
Of making you mine, of walking all the paths
Of drinking from all the dry fountains
I didn't make the mistake of being excessive
Of being generous, imprudent, and eager
Unstoppable, unbridled by your intoxicated perfume
Keeping you by my side so as not to reproach you one day for my cowardice
For I asked without having you to be only mine.

And I still have you but you are on pause
Now the flower is immortal because of me
It doesn't respect color or scent
It has become false
Only the stiff silhouette remains of that beauty
And it punishes me and reproaches me
Condemning it to not fulfill its destiny
It blinds me like the sun to an albino
I can't stop desiring it
It controls my five senses
Oh, I don't want to look at it anymore.

Let the flower wither in your hands
Enjoy its beauty while it exists
Don't try to stop neither laughter nor tears
It's better to feel that you lived it
Let it turn to ashes and be carried away by the wind
Since nothing is eternal
It's better the flower that withers in your hand
Than being trapped in a book of memories.