Palabras de Amor
Él me quiso tanto, que aún sigo enamorada,
Juntos atravesamos, una puerta cerrada.
Él como os diría, era toda mi ocupación,
Cuando en la lumbre ardían, sólo palabras de amor.
Palabras de amor, sencillas y tiernas,
Que echamos al vuelo, por primera vez,
Apenas tuvimos, tiempo de aprenderlas,
Recién despertábamos, de la niñez.
Nos bastaban esas tres frases hechas,
Que entonaba un trasnochado galán.
Historias de amor, sueños de poetas,
A los quince años, no se sabe más.
Él, dónde andará, tal vez aún me recuerde,
Un día se marchó, y jamás volví a verle,
Pero cuando oscurece, lejos se escucha una canción,
Vieja música que acuna, viejas palabras de amor.
Palabras de amor, sencillas y tiernas,
Que echamos al vuelo por primera vez.
Apenas tuvimos tiempo de aprenderlas,
Recién despertábamos de la niñez,
Nos bastaban esas tres frases hechas,
Que entonaba un trasnochado galán,
Historias de amor sueños de poetas,
A los quince años no se sabe más,
A los quince años no se sabe más.
Words of Love
He loved me so much, that I'm still in love,
Together we went through, a closed door.
He, as I would say, was my whole occupation,
When in the fire they burned, only words of love.
Words of love, simple and tender,
That we threw out there, for the first time,
We barely had time to learn them,
Just waking up from childhood.
Those three ready-made phrases were enough for us,
That a night owl gallant would sing.
Love stories, poets' dreams,
At fifteen, you don't know more.
Where is he now, maybe he still remembers me,
One day he left, and I never saw him again,
But when it gets dark, a song can be heard from afar,
Old music that cradles, old words of love.
Words of love, simple and tender,
That we threw out there for the first time.
We barely had time to learn them,
Just waking up from childhood,
Those three ready-made phrases were enough for us,
That a night owl gallant would sing,
Love stories, poets' dreams,
At fifteen, you don't know more,
At fifteen, you don't know more.
Escrita por: Joan Manuel Serrat