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The Tree

La Oreja de Van Gogh

El Árbol

Era una tarde de mucho calor,
Se pararon a descanzar
Bajo las sombras de un sauce lloron,
Comenzaron a soñar,
Se hizo de noche,
Ella no estaba,
Se desperto era un juego de sombras,
Pasaron horas, muchas mañanas,
Tardes enteras buscado su calor

Y nunca imagino, quien provoco,
Su soledad,
El arbol que robo, su ilusion, su corazon.

El a ese viejo arbol se acerco,
Y de pronto descubrio,
Que no eran gotas lo que resbalaban,
Eran lagrimas de su amor,
Se fue acercando,
Y lentamente se unio al juego de su enemigo,
En su interior, pudo escuchar,
Esos latidos que le quitaron pero

nunca imagino, quien provoco,
Su soledad,
El arbol que robo,
su ilusion, su corazon.

The Tree

It was a hot afternoon,
They stopped to rest
Under the shades of a weeping willow,
They began to dream,
It became night,
She wasn't there,
She woke up, it was a play of shadows,
Hours passed, many mornings,
Whole afternoons looking for her warmth

And never imagined, who caused,
Her loneliness,
The tree that stole, her illusion, her heart.

He approached that old tree,
And suddenly discovered,
That it wasn't drops that were sliding,
They were tears of his love,
He got closer,
And slowly joined the game of his enemy,
Inside him, he could hear,
Those heartbeats they took away from him but

never imagined, who caused,
Her loneliness,
The tree that stole,
her illusion, her heart.

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