Hotel Dulce Hotel - Joaquín Sabina

Pedí dos camas con ventanas al mar,

mejor que salgas sola del ascensor,

conozco un chino cerca para cenar,

inventa un nombre falso y déjalo en recepción,

le he dicho al camarero que nos suba champán,

un siglo y tres minutos, ¿cuándo vas a llegar?

Prepararé un canuto bien cargado en tu honor,

la llave está en la puerta, cuarto setenta y dos.

Hotel, dulce hotel,

hogar, triste hogar,

estatuas de sal,

habitación con vistas a tu piel.

Tal vez se deje seducir el azar,

abriga más cuando es furtivo el amor,

con seis ducados arrugados y un par

de botas medio rotas se camina mejor;

te besaré la nuca mientras miras saltar

las olas entre las farolas del malecón,

ponte el liguero que por reyes te regalé,

ven a la cama, nos persigue el amanecer.

Hotel, dulce hotel,

hogar, triste hogar,

estatuas de sal,

habitación con vistas a tu piel.

Tú sabes que en el purgatorio no hay

amor doméstico con muebles de skay,

no es que no quiera, es que no quiero querer,

echarle leña al fuego del hogar y el deber,

la llama que me quema cada vez que te veo

me dice que es absurdo programar el deseo,

al cabo de unos años estaríamos los dos

adultos y aburridos frente al televisor.

Hotel, dulce hotel,

hogar, triste hogar,

estatuas de sal,

habitación con vistas a tu piel.

I asked for two beds with windows to the sea,

You better get out of the elevator alone

I know a Chinese nearby for dinner,

make up a fake name and leave it at reception,

I told the waiter to bring us champagne,

a century and three minutes, when are you going to arrive?

I will prepare a well loaded joint in your honor,

the key is in the door, room seventy-two.

Hotel, sweet hotel,

home, sad home,

salt statues,

room with a view of your skin.

Perhaps chance will be seduced,

shelters more when love is furtive,

with six wrinkled ducats and a couple

half-torn boots walk better;

I'll kiss the back of your neck while you watch jump

the waves between the lampposts of the boardwalk,

put on the garter belt that I gave you for kings,

come to bed, dawn haunts us.

Hotel, sweet hotel,

home, sad home,

salt statues,

room with a view of your skin.

You know that in purgatory there is no

domestic love with skay furniture,

It's not that I don't want to, it's that I don't want to want to,

add fuel to the fire of home and duty,

the flame that burns me every time I see you

He tells me that it is absurd to program the desire,

after a few years we would both be

adults and bored in front of the television.

Hotel, sweet hotel,

home, sad home,

salt statues,

room with a view of your skin.