Emmanuel — La Última Luna song lyrics and translation
The page contains the lyrics and English translation of the song "La Última Luna" by Emmanuel.
Lyrics
La septima luna
era aquella del Luna Park
el crepusculo avanzaba
de la feria al bar
mientras tanto el angel Santo blasfemaba
la polucion que respiraba
musculoso pero fragil.
Pobre angel, pobres alas.
La sexta luna
era el alma de un desgraciado
que maldecia el haber nacido,
pero sonreia.
Cuatro noches sin haber cenado
con las manos, con las manos,
manchadas de carbon.
Tocaba el pecho una señora
y manchaba y reia
creyendose el patron.
La quinta luna
daba tanto miedo
era la cabeza de una dama
que sintiendo la muerte cercana
el billar jugaba.
Era grande y elegante,
no era joven, no era vieja
tal vez enferma
seguramente estaba enferma
porque sangraba un poco por la oreja.
La cuarta luna
era una cuerda de un prisioneros
que caminando, seguia los rieles
de un tren viejo.
Tenia los pies ensangrentados
y las manos, y las manos, y las manos
sin sus guantes,
pero no te alarmes
el cielo esta sereno
y no hay bastantes prisioneros.
La tercera luna
salieron todos a mirarla
era, era asi de grande
que mas de uno penso en el Padre Eterno.
Se secaron las risas, y se fundieron las luces
y comenzo el infierno,
la gente huyo a su casa
porque por una noche
regreso el invierno.
La segunda luna
el panico sembro entre los gitanos,
hubo alguno que incluso
se amputo un dedo.
Otros fueron hacia el banco
a hacer alguna operacion,
pero que confusion,
la mayor parte de ellos
con sus hijos y sus perros
corrieron a la estacion.
La ultima luna
la vio solo un recien nacido
con ojos hondos, negros, redondos
y no lloraba
con grandes alas tomo la luna
entre sus manos, entre sus manos.
Salio volando por la ventana
era el hombre del mañana.
Salio volando por la ventana…
(Gracias a Johnny por esta letra)
Lyrics translation
The seventh moon
it was the one at Luna Park.
the Twilight was advancing
from the fair to the bar
meanwhile the Holy angel blasphemed
the polucion that breathed
muscular but fragile.
Poor angel, poor wings.
The sixth moon
he was the soul of a wretch
who cursed to be born,
but smile.
Four nights without having dinner
with your hands, with your hands,
carbon-stained.
A lady touched her chest
and smudged and laughed
thinking you're the boss.
The fifth moon
it was so scary
it was the head of a lady
that feeling the near death
billiards was playing.
It was big and elegant,
I wasn't young, I wasn't old
maybe sick.
she was probably sick.
because he was bleeding a little from his ear.
The fourth moon
it was a rope of a prisoner
walking along the tracks
from an old train.
His feet were bloody.
and hands, and hands, and hands
without his gloves,
but don't be alarmed
the sky is clear
and there aren't enough prisoners.
The third Moon
they all went out to look at her.
it was, it was this big
more than one thought of the Eternal Father.
The laughter dried up, and the lights melted
and hell began,
people fled home
because for one night
I'll be back in the winter.
The second moon
the panic I sow among the Gypsies,
there was some that even
he amputated a finger.
Others went to the bank
to do some operation,
but what confusion,
most of them
with their children and their dogs
they ran to the station.
The last moon
only a newborn saw her
with deep, black, round eyes
and she didn't cry
with great wings I take the moon
in his hands, in his hands.
He flew out the window
he was the man of tomorrow.
He flew out the window…
(Thanks to Johnny for this lyrics)