Manolo Garcia — Para Que No Se Duerman Mis Sentidos song lyrics and translation
The page contains the lyrics and English translation of the song "Para Que No Se Duerman Mis Sentidos" by Manolo Garcia.
Lyrics
Háblame en la hora calma de la media noche
Háblame para que no se duerman mis sentidos, háblame
De lejanas tierras donde el único dios sea el sol
Donde se vive al rumor de las hojas del sicómoro mecidas de brisa y calor
Cuéntame fracasos, vida, rumbos de pintores locos
Háblame de la calima de las noches
Cuando tu amante de amantes huyó
De Cartago a las puertas de Roma, de la Sevilla mora
De claveles de revolución
De las vueltas que da la tuerca
De los amores que son prisión
Va y viene mi alma de esponja
Viene y va si tú me hablas
Si tú me cuentas cosas
Barquera, monte, montera
Viene y va mi alma viajera
Linda zagala, si me quisieras
Va y viene linda barquera
Si tú me miras de esa manera
Háblame en la hora calma de la media noche
Háblame para que no se duerman mis sentidos, háblame
De Cádiz fenicia, de la Córdoba que abrigaba su mezquita
De Chagall o de los poetas andaluces del destierro
De porqué claveles para una revolución
De las vueltas que da la tuerca
De los amores que son prisión
Va y viene mi alma de esponja
Viene y va si tú me hablas
Si tú me cuentas cosas
Va y viene mi alma guerrera
Viene y va si tú me hablas
Si tú endulzas la espera
Barquera, monte, montera
Viene y va mi alma viajera
Linda zagala, si me quisieras
Va y viene linda barquera
Si me sonríes de esa manera
Barquera, monte, montera
Barquera, monte, montera
Lyrics translation
Talk to me in the quiet hour of midnight
Talk to me so my senses don't fall asleep, talk to me
From faraway lands where the only God is the sun
Where you live to the rumor of the leaves of the Sycamore rocked by Breeze and heat
Tell me failures, life, directions of Mad painters
Tell me about the heat of the night
When your lover of lovers ran away
From Carthage to the gates of Rome, from the Moorish Sevilla
Of revolution carnations
Of the turns that gives the nut
Of the loves that are prison
My sponge soul comes and goes
It comes and goes if you talk to me
If you tell me things
Boat, Mount, Mount
My traveling soul comes and goes
Linda zagala, if you wanted me
Come and go cute Boatswain
If you look at me that way
Talk to me in the quiet hour of midnight
Talk to me so my senses don't fall asleep, talk to me
Of Cádiz Phoenicia, of Córdoba that housed its mosque
Of Chagall or of the Andalusian poets of banishment
Why carnations for a revolution
Of the turns that gives the nut
Of the loves that are prison
My sponge soul comes and goes
It comes and goes if you talk to me
If you tell me things
My warrior soul comes and goes
It comes and goes if you talk to me
If you sweeten the wait
Boat, Mount, Mount
My traveling soul comes and goes
Linda zagala, if you wanted me
Come and go cute Boatswain
If you smile at me like that
Boat, Mount, Mount
Boat, Mount, Mount