David DeMaría — Cantares (en directo) song lyrics and translation

The page contains the lyrics and English translation of the song "Cantares (en directo)" by David DeMaría.

Lyrics

Todo pasa y todo queda
Pero lo nuestro es pasar,
Pasar haciendo caminos,
Caminos sobre la mar.
Nunca persegui la gloria
Ni dejar en la memoria
De los hombres mi cancion;
Yo amo los mundos sutiles,
Ingravidos y gentiles
Como pompas de jabon.
Me gusta verlos pintarse
Se sol y grana, volar
Bajo el cielo azul, temblar
Subitamente y quebrarse…
Nunca persegui la gloria.
Caminante son tus huellas
El camino y nada mas;
Caminante, no hay camino
Se hace camino al andar.
Al andar se hace camino
Y al volver la vista atras
Se ve la senda que nunca
Se ha de volver a pisar.
Caminante no hay camino
Sino estelas en la mar…
Hace algun tiempo en ese lugar
Donde hoy los bosques se visten de espinos
Se oyo la voz de un poeta gritar
«Caminante no hay camino,
Se hace camino al andar…»
Golpe a golpe, verso a verso…
Murio el poeta lejos del hogar.
Le cubre el polvo de un pais vecino.
Al alejarse, le vieron llorar.
«Caminante, no hay camino,
Se hace camino al andar»
Golpe a golpe, verso a verso…
Cuando el jilguero no puede cantar
Cuando el poeta es un peregrino,
Cuando de nada nos sirve rezar.
«Caminante, no hay camino,
Se hace camino al andar…»
Golpe a golpe, verso a verso

Lyrics translation

Everything passes and everything remains
But our thing is to pass,
Pass by making paths,
Roads over the sea.
I never pursued the glory
Nor Leave In memory
Of men my song;
I love the subtle worlds,
Weightless and gentle
Like soap bubbles.
I like to see them paint themselves
Be sun and grana, fly
Under the blue sky, tremble
Suddenly and break…
I never pursued glory.
Walker are your footprints
The road and nothing more;
Hiker, there's no way
It makes its way by walking.
Walking makes its way
And when you look back
You see the path that never
You have to step on it again.
Hiker there's no way
But stelas in the sea…
Some time ago in that place
Where today the forests are dressed in thorns
The Voice of a poet was heard screaming
"Walker there is no way,
It makes its way by walking…»
Blow by blow, verse by verse…
The poet died far from home.
It covers the dust of a neighboring country.
As he walked away, he was seen crying.
"Walker, there is no way,
It makes its way by walking»
Blow by blow, verse by verse…
When The Goldfinch can't sing
When the poet is a pilgrim,
When there's no use in praying.
"Walker, there is no way,
It makes its way by walking…»
Blow by blow, verse by verse