Silencio en la sala (18/98 auzolanean)
Errutina berbera sei hilabetean,
surrealismo hutsa errealitatean,
epaigelako ohiko marmarren artean
begiak itxi ditut halako batean
barrurantz amildu naiz gogoa zugana
orfeoren xuxurla goxoki narama
irudi bitxiekin nahasten da iragana
benetan zu agertzen zatzaizkit laztana, benetan zu agertzen zatzaizkit laztana,
benetan zu agertzen zatzaizkit laztana , benetan zu agertzen zatzaizkit laztana.
Zu zaldi urdin baten,
zu auto beltz baten,
zu agure izan barik,
... baten,
gero ni gau gorrian nola naramate inoiz ezin ditudanak ikusi esaten gero amets gaizto bat oro min oro zu erloju bat tolesten orratzak odoltsu ni triku bihurtzen naiz sor gortu, eta izu, gero barealdia eta gero berriz zu laztana berriz zu eta gero berriz zu laztana berriz zu eta gero berriz zu laztana berriz zu eta gero berriz zu laztana berriz zu
Ez daukat arantzarik, leundu zait azala,
zure hatz mami baten azpian natzala,
ahots arrotz batek hots "silencio en la sala"
orduantxe jaso dut ezker betazala
...egin diot suak har dezala
sei hilabete hotan goizero bezala,
Eta gero berriz zu laztana berriz zu eta gero berriz zu laztana berriz zu eta gero berriz zu laztana berriz zu eta gero berriz zu laztana beti zu.
Silence in the Room (18/98 Collective)
A routine that’s been dragging on for six months,
surrealism stripped bare in reality,
among the usual marble of the judges,
I suddenly closed my eyes,
I’ve sunk inward, my thoughts on you,
Orpheus’s sweet whisper calls me,
the past mixes with strange images,
truly, it’s you that I feel caressing me, truly, it’s you that I feel caressing me,
truly, it’s you that I feel caressing me, truly, it’s you that I feel caressing me.
You’re a blue horse,
you’re a black car,
you’re not an old man,
... something,
then I’m in the dark night, how I can’t see what I can’t ever see, saying then a nightmare, all pain, all you, a clock twisting, the hands bloody, I turn into a frog, and fear, then calm, and then again you caressing me, again you, and then again you caressing me, again you, and then again you caressing me, again you, and then again you caressing me, again you.
I don’t have any thorns, my skin has softened,
I’m under the essence of your touch,
a strange voice echoes "silence in the room,"
that’s when I caught the left eyelid,
...I told the fire to take it,
six cold months, like every morning,
and then again you caressing me, again you, and then again you caressing me, again you, and then again you caressing me, again you, and then again you caressing me, always you.