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Penelope

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Penelope
With her brown leather handbag
And her high heels
And her Sunday dress.
 
Penelope
Sits on a platform bench
And waits for the first train to arrive
Wagging the fan.
 
They say in the village
That a walker stopped his watch
On one spring afternoon
 
'Farewell my love do not weep for me
I'll be back, before the willow trees
Shed their leaves,
Think of me, I'll come back for you'.
 
Poor wretch, your childish clock stopped
One leaden April afternoon
When your lover went away.
 
In your orchard, withered
Lays every single flower
There is no willow in
Main Street for Penelope.
 
Penelope,
Sadness by dint of waiting
Your eyes seem to shine
If a train whistles in your eyes .
 
Penelope,
One after another she sees them pass by
She looks at their faces, she hears them talk
To her they are dolls.
 
They say in the village
That the wayfarer returned
He found her on his green pine bench
 
He called out to her: 'Penelope, my faithful lover, my peace
Stop weaving dreams in your mind,
Look at me, I am your love, I am back'.
 
She smiled at him, her eyes full of yesterday.
Her face and her skin didn't use to be like that
'You're not who I expect'
 
And she kept her brown leather handbag
And her high heels
Sitting at the station...
Sitting at the station.
 

A Little Bit

Falling in love in not in fashion
Nobody wants to be sincere nowadays
But in you
I find all, all, all that I want
 
One February to the next
Medellin or Buenos Aires
I close my eyes, and to think of you
Has become inevitable for me
 
I don't want to be everything in your life
Or to hurt your pride, either
And I've accumulated one or two debts here and there
So that I may become ...
 
Yours... I ...a little bit yours,
Even though they may say that I'm not your type
I can give credit to this love in front of a judge
 
Yours... I ... a little bit yours,
Even though you may think I'm a bit crazy
I'm just in love, and you don't see it
And you don't see me
Looking for you at night
While you're thinking about something else
And you don't see me
 
And though they may say that what we have is a failure
I'd rather find out for myself in your arms
How easy it is for them to talk because they don't know
That nobody has the key to love
 
There are people who like to talk from the outside
And yet there is no school for loving you
If I have to learn, let it be with you
And if you want to talk, let it be with me
 
I don't want to be everything in your life
Or to hurt your pride, either
And I've accumulated one or two debts here and there
So that I may become ...
 
Yours... I ... a little bit yours,
Even though they may say that I'm not your type
I can give credit to this love in front of a judge
 
Yours... I ... a little bit yours
Don't think life over so much
We have no other exit left
And you don't see it
And you don't see me
Looking for you at night
While you're thinking about something else
And you don't see me
 
The story of the most beautiful
Love does not exist in writing
Little by little
I go and eat all of the love
 
I want to be the hero in your favorite tale,
Though a bear could come
I'd scare it out in a just a little while
I'd even cross
The Sahara Desert for you
You make me be the richest of men,
Though I may have nothing
 
I wore out all my stockings
Due to following your footsteps
To carry your luggage is my biggest pride
I run, sing, jump
I'm an actor, I ride on a balloon
I am capable of anything
So that I can become a little bit yours
 
Yours, I... a little bit yours
A little bit yours
You.. a little bit mine
 
So that you may know why this life
Is the loveliest there is
 
Yours, a little bit yours
I... a little bit yours
You ... a little bit mine
A little bit
 

Today is Sunday!

How I like being back at home,
And wake up full of its smell
To that coffee of the morning
That always runs to the bed,
And sleeps until the alarm clock.
 
Today I have an appointment with the pillow
And a meeting with the fan,
An outing with my dog,
Because he does not understand the pretext,
And I leave my chair in pause.
 
Today, today is Sunday,
No commitments with the clock
Because today, today is Sunday
There is nothing better.
 
I'll get you some wine in the kitchen
And a good roast waits on the grill,
Although we have a thousand problems
Today we rest from the hardships,
Feeding the heart.
 
Let no one break this moment,
It is a day of celebration.
We must toast for joy,
Put out the bad energy,
Because tomorrow is Monday and it ends.
 
Today, today is Sunday,
No commitments with the clock
Because today, today is Sunday
There is nothing better.
 
Today, today is Sunday,
No commitments with the clock
Because today, today is Sunday
There is nothing better.
 
Today is Sunday and not good for work,
Today is Sunday, the day to enjoy.
Tomorrow is a holiday, do not argue with me,
That I have the almanac, in Spanish and in English.
 
Today is Sunday and not good for work,
Today is Sunday, the day to enjoy.
But that look when they meet
Two Latinos, always give the same
Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday
That Sunday will always be.
 
Today is Sunday and not good for work,
Today is Sunday, the day to enjoy.
Sunday goes to Mass, I speak of the spiritual,
It reunites the family and friends, to celebrate.