More songs by Yarea
Description
There's a special kind of calm in some stories - not the kind that comes with wisdom, but the kind that remains after all the storms. When there's no screaming left inside, just the faint sound of the waves: the habit of remembering and letting go simultaneously. Here, breath is taken not from pain, but from memories that are too familiar not to be felt. Each line is like a step through a familiar city where everything is slightly different: the same light, the same streets, but nothing is yours anymore. His voice trembles as if he's apologising to the very air. But not for love - for its remnants that still stubbornly live under the skin. And even though nothing is left in common except memories and unspoken phrases, that same "maybe it would be different" still echoes inside - like a quiet admission that any "almost" can also be a beautiful ending.
Lyrics and translation
Original
No tengo remedio.
Son ya las tres y siento que me cuesta respirar.
Siempre que me invento existe un universo en el que esto podría funcionar.
Pero es que cada vez que vuelvo a verte sin aviso previo estallan todas las cosas que ya no me corresponden.
Y tengo la manía de decirme que es normal que me tiemble la voz si oigo tu nombre.
No sé si puedo quererte, tal vez sería diferente si hubieras sido de mi ciudad.
Ya no te alejas de verme porque soy yo la que siente.
Sé que has sido un buen final.
Nunca quise hacerlo y te lo digo en serio.
No vuelvas a llamar si no te importa y me cuesta decirlo sin titubear, pero lo que bien te hace tiempo que no está. No me mires así, que ya no queda nada. No queda nada.
Pero es que cada vez que vuelvo a verte sin aviso previo estallan todas las cosas que ya no me corresponden.
Y tengo la manía de decirme que es normal que me tiemble la voz si oigo tu nombre.
No sé si puedo quererte, tal vez sería diferente si hubieras sido de mi ciudad.
Ya no te alejas de verme porque soy yo la que siente.
Sé que has sido un buen final.
Sin un buen final.
Y no hace falta decirnos nada.
Si miro atrás y puedo ver que fue importante, se me atraganta ver cómo avanzas, pero tan insignificante.
No sé si puedo quererte, tal vez sería diferente si hubieras sido de mi ciudad.
Ya no te alejas de verme porque soy yo la que siente.
Sé que has sido un buen final.
Sin un buen final. Sin un buen final.
English translation
I have no choice.
It's already three o'clock and I feel like I'm having trouble breathing.
Whenever I make it up there is a universe in which this could work.
But every time I see you again without prior notice, all the things that no longer belong to me explode.
And I have the habit of telling myself that it is normal for my voice to tremble if I hear your name.
I don't know if I can love you, maybe it would be different if you had been from my city.
You no longer distance yourself from seeing me because I am the one who feels.
I know you have been a good ending.
I never wanted to do it and I'm serious.
Don't call again if you don't mind and it's hard for me to say it without hesitation, but what is good for you has been gone for a long time. Don't look at me like that, there's nothing left. There is nothing left.
But every time I see you again without prior notice, all the things that no longer belong to me explode.
And I have the habit of telling myself that it is normal for my voice to tremble if I hear your name.
I don't know if I can love you, maybe it would be different if you had been from my city.
You no longer distance yourself from seeing me because I am the one who feels.
I know you have been a good ending.
Without a good ending.
And you don't need to tell us anything.
If I look back and I can see that it was important, it chokes me to see how you move forward, but so insignificant.
I don't know if I can love you, maybe it would be different if you had been from my city.
You no longer distance yourself from seeing me because I am the one who feels.
I know you have been a good ending.
Without a good ending. Without a good ending.