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Tres versos para una historia / Three verses for a story ~ @illapu

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Tres versos para una historia / Three verses for a story ~ Illapu(English Subtitles)A man lived here yesterday,today, alone lives his son Manuel he looks for his father, he wants to knowwhere his cry can burn.He was 5 years old the day whenhis mother said: “he’s gone travelling”.Nothing has changed in that room,a carnation lies on the bed.Each night and dawn,he runs to the room looking for him,his mother says: “Son, Manuel,maybe tomorrow, we’ll have faith”.He grew up dreaming to see the dayof his bedtime story,then his mother said: “Manuel,only truth can bring him back”.From this jail cell where hate has confinedthe smile, my love,I bleed to the absence of your hands,and I go to sleep with your universethat is strength and life in the hope of the children left behind.But if I die, in the misery of not seeing you anymoreget up, hold me up,the sacrifice of the flesh has not being in vain,get up, hold me up,the sacrifice of my body has not being in vain.Farewell, my love…Farewell.You look for me,and don’t find me.But I’m here,I’m like you,I haven’t disappeared,I’m a living reflection.I hear trains going fast,and the shouting of street vendors.You look for me,and don’t find me.But I’m here,I never left. Juan finished school,and although it’s late,he will go searching for the truth. You and him will find me.See, I’m here,where I never left. I’m hereand sometimes I sing.I can see you,dancing alone.So nobody loses the memory,because I’m part of this story. It’s in my children, my tomorrow,my tomorrow,my tomorrow…English translation by, Felipe Henríquez Ordenes : @PipeHenriquezOSpecial thanks goes to: AleSol Mery Keitel: @AleSol_MK

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10 de Diciembre

Three verses for a story ~ ILLAPU
(English Subtitles)

A man lived here yesterday,
today, alone lives his son Manuel
he looks for his father, he wants to know
where his cry can burn.

He was 5 years old the day when
his mother said: “he’s gone travelling”.
Nothing has changed in that room,
a carnation lies on the bed.

Each night and dawn,
he runs to the room looking for him,
his mother says: “Son, Manuel,
maybe tomorrow, we’ll have faith”.

He grew up dreaming to see the day
of his bedtime story,
then his mother said: “Manuel,
only truth can bring him back”.

From this jail cell where hate has confined
the smile, my love,
I bleed to the absence of your hands,
and I go to sleep with your universe
that is strength and life in the hope of the children left behind.

But if I die,
in the misery of not seeing you anymore
get up, hold me up,
the sacrifice of the flesh has not being in vain,
get up, hold me up,
the sacrifice of my body has not being in vain.
Farewell, my love…
Farewell.

You look for me,
and don’t find me.
But I’m here,
I’m like you,
I haven’t disappeared,
I’m a living reflection.
I hear trains going fast,
and the shouting of street vendors.

You look for me,
and don’t find me.
But I’m here,
I never left.
Juan finished school,
and although it’s late,
he will go searching for the truth.
You and him will find me.

See, I’m here,
where I never left.
I’m here
and sometimes I sing.
I can see you,
dancing alone.

So nobody loses the memory,
because I’m part of this story.
It’s in my children, my tomorrow,
my tomorrow,
my tomorrow…

English translation by, Felipe Henríquez Ordenes : @PipeHenriquezO
Special thanks goes to: AleSol Mery Keitel: @AleSol_MK

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