Pupila de Águila - Violeta Parra

Un pajarillo vino a posarse bajo mi arbolito,

era de noche, yo no podía ver su dibujito,

se lamentaba de que una jaula lo hizo prisionero,

que las plumillas, una por una, se las arrancaron.

Quise curarlo con mi cariño, mas el pajarillo

guardó silencio como una tumba hasta que amaneció.

Llegan los claros de un bello día, el viento sacudió

todo el ramaje de mi arbolito y allí se descubrió

que el pajarillo tenía el alma más herida que yo,

y por las grietas que le sangraban su vida se escapó,

en su garganta dolido trino llora su corazón,

le abrí mi canto y en mi vihuela lo repitió el bordón.

Ya mejoraba, ya sonreía con mi medicina,

cuando una tarde llegó una carta de su jaula antigua,

en mi arbolillo brotaron flores negras y moradas

porque el correo vino a buscarlo, mis ojos lloraban.

Desaparece, me deja en prenda toda su amargura,

se lleva ufano mi flor más tierna, mi sol y mi luna.

En el momento de su partida, en mi cuello un collar

dejó olvidado, y como Aladino yo le empecé a frotar.

Pasan minutos, pasan las horas y toda una vida

por el milagro de aquella joya lo he visto regresar,

con más heridas, con más silencio y con garras largas,

sus buenos días mi piel desgarra con ácida maldad.

Ave que llega sin procedencia y no sabe dónde va

es prisionera en su propio vuelo, ave mala será,

ave maligna, siembra cizaña, bebe, calla y se va,

cierra tu puente, cierra tu canto, tira la llave al mar.

Un pajarillo vino llorando, lo quise consolar,

toqué sus ojos con mi pañuelo, pupila de águila

A little bird came to perch under my little tree,

It was night, I couldn't see his little drawing of him,

he lamented that a cage imprisoned him,

that the pens, one by one, were torn out.

I wanted to heal him with my love, plus the little bird

it was silent as a grave until dawn.

The clearings of a beautiful day arrive, the wind shook

all the branches of my little tree and there it was discovered

that the little bird had a more wounded soul than me,

and through the cracks that bled his life from him he escaped,

in his trilled hurt throat his heart cries out for him,

I opened my song for him and the staff repeated it on my vihuela.

He was already improving, he was already smiling with my medicine,

when one afternoon a letter came from his old cage from him,

black and purple flowers sprouted on my little tree

because the mail came to get it, my eyes were crying.

He disappears, he pledges all his bitterness to me,

proudly takes my most tender flower, my sun and my moon.

At the time of his departure from him, on my neck a necklace

he left forgotten, and like Aladdin I began to rub him.

Minutes go by, hours go by and a lifetime

by the miracle of that jewel I have seen him return,

with more wounds, with more silence and with long claws,

his good morning tears my skin with acid malice.

Bird that he arrives without origin and does not know where he is going

It is a prisoner in its own flight, it will be a bad bird,

evil bird, sow tares, drink, shut up and go,

close your bridge, close your song, throw the key into the sea.

A little bird came crying, I wanted to comfort it,

I touched his eyes with my handkerchief, eagle pupil