El Temblor en el Liceu de Barcelona
From where no one returns
I saw you return
with a sun on your lips
that gave you the mezcal.
I cured you in that house,
right in front of the sea
and with a tired voice
I heard you murmur:
Nothing will bring us down
when the tremor comes,
when the tremor comes.
No one will separate us
when the tremor comes,
when the tremor comes.
In a bar in Oaxaca
I caused a hurricane,
I threw it into the North Pacific
like a boomerang.
A wind rose
cold and devastating
that took you and me
where horror is born.
Nothing will bring us down
when the tremor comes,
when the tremor comes.
No one will separate us
when the tremor comes,
when the tremor comes.
and you disappeared
without giving explanation
and I was left shouting to the sky:
You will bear your cross.
I felt chills,
I suffered loneliness,
I frequented the worst kind
of this society.
Nothing will bring us down
when the tremor comes,
when the tremor comes.
No one will separate us
when the tremor comes,
when the tremor comes.
I looked for you in Buenos Aires,
I found you in Paris
drawing fire hopscotch
under a gray sky.
And we fade away,
sharing the void
and no one came to rescue us,
and the tremor overcame us.
From where no one returns
I saw you return
with a sun on your lips
that gave you the mezcal
