Ricardo Arjona - Minutos 👀🕰🎸🎼
Good evening, vibes community. I just recovered from a few days of bad health and I did not want to miss the opportunity to participate in this week because this theme is the one I liked the most so far. So much so that I didn't even know which song to choose, and the fact is that the 2000's are the majority of my musical tastes. I went round and round until I came across this old acquaintance: “Minutos” by Ricardo Arjona. The Guatemalan singer-songwriter brought us this excellent song that invites us to reflect on time and relationships, and how this first can be a sharp blade that cuts into our chest when there are regrets and nostalgia for what was a relationship.
Arjona, as always, stands out for its riddles and games in his lyrics. This song, released on the record label “Columbia - PRCD 98904” in 2002, is no exception. Instead of going straight to the point like many artists today, it gives hidden messages and verses subject to interpretation. I hope you enjoy this track, and if you would like to give me some interpretation of any of the lines you see in the video, I will gladly read them. I always like to know how many different interpretations can be found to a letter of Arjona.
For the video invitation in networks, this time I wanted to be a little creative. Instead of starting with the competitor's name as I usually do, I started it with a hook technique to see if it would do better in retention. Check it out if you have some time and let me know what you think.
https://www.instagram.com/reel/DHZguUzSAIx/?igsh=Y2RjcjdhN2Voajli
Letra Español
El reloj de pared
Anunciando las 6:23
El pasado con sed
Y el presente es un atleta sin pies
Ya son las 6:43
Y el cadáver del minuto que pasó
Me dice: Así se vive aquí, te guste o no
Y la nostalgia pone casa en mi cabeza
Y dan las 6 con 50
¿Quién te dijo que yo
Era el sueño que soñaste una vez?
¿Quién te dijo que tú
Voltearías mi futuro al revés?
Ya son las 7:16
Y el cadáver del minuto que pasó
Me dice: Tu estrategia te arruinó
No queda más que ir aprendiendo a vivir solo
Si te quedan agallas
La casa no es otra cosa
Que un cementerio de historias
Enterradas en fosas
Que algunos llaman memorias
Minutos, como sal en la herida
Se me pasa la vida, gastando el reloj
Minutos son la morgue del tiempo
Cadáveres de momentos que no vuelven jamás
No hay reloj que de vuelta hacia atrás
Como duele gastar
El instante en el que tú ya no estas
Como cuesta luchar
Con las cosas que no vuelven más
Ya son las 9:23
Y el cadáver del minuto que pasó
Se burla de mis ganas de besar
La foto que dejaste puesta en el buró
Mi soledad es tu venganza
El ministerio del tiempo
Puso sede en mi almohada
Ahí te encuentro a momentos
Aunque no sirve de nada
Minutos, como sal en la herida
Se me pasa la vida, gastando el reloj
Minutos son la morgue del tiempo
Cadáveres de momentos que no vuelven jamás
No hay reloj que de vuelta hacia atrás
Lyrics English
The wall clock
Announcing 6:23
The past with thirst
And the present is an athlete without feet
It's already 6:43
And the corpse of the minute that passed
Tells me: That's how you live here, like it or not
And nostalgia puts a house in my head
And it's 6:50
Who told you that I
Was the dream you once dreamed?
Who told you that you
Would turn my future upside down?
It's already 7:16
And the corpse of the minute that passed
Tells me: Your strategy ruined you
There's nothing left to do but learn to live alone
If you have any guts left
The house is nothing more
Than a cemetery of stories
Buried in pits
That some call memories
Minutes, like salt in the wound
I spend my life, wearing out the clock
Minutes are the morgue of time
Corpses of moments that never return
There is no clock that turns backwards
As it hurts to waste
The instant when you are no longer here
How hard it is to fight
With the things that never come back
It's already 9:23
And the corpse of the minute that passed
Mocks my desire to kiss
The photo that you left on the bureau
My loneliness is your revenge
The ministry of time
Put headquarters on my pillow
There I find you at times
Though it's of no use
Minutes, like salt in the wound
I spend my life, wearing out the clock
Minutes are the morgue of time
Corpses of moments that never return
There is no clock that turns backwards
El reloj de pared
Anunciando las 6:23
El pasado con sed
Y el presente es un atleta sin pies
Ya son las 6:43
Y el cadáver del minuto que pasó
Me dice: Así se vive aquí, te guste o no
Y la nostalgia pone casa en mi cabeza
Y dan las 6 con 50
¿Quién te dijo que yo
Era el sueño que soñaste una vez?
¿Quién te dijo que tú
Voltearías mi futuro al revés?
Ya son las 7:16
Y el cadáver del minuto que pasó
Me dice: Tu estrategia te arruinó
No queda más que ir aprendiendo a vivir solo
Si te quedan agallas
La casa no es otra cosa
Que un cementerio de historias
Enterradas en fosas
Que algunos llaman memorias
Minutos, como sal en la herida
Se me pasa la vida, gastando el reloj
Minutos son la morgue del tiempo
Cadáveres de momentos que no vuelven jamás
No hay reloj que de vuelta hacia atrás
Como duele gastar
El instante en el que tú ya no estas
Como cuesta luchar
Con las cosas que no vuelven más
Ya son las 9:23
Y el cadáver del minuto que pasó
Se burla de mis ganas de besar
La foto que dejaste puesta en el buró
Mi soledad es tu venganza
El ministerio del tiempo
Puso sede en mi almohada
Ahí te encuentro a momentos
Aunque no sirve de nada
Minutos, como sal en la herida
Se me pasa la vida, gastando el reloj
Minutos son la morgue del tiempo
Cadáveres de momentos que no vuelven jamás
No hay reloj que de vuelta hacia atrás
Lyrics English
The wall clock
Announcing 6:23
The past with thirst
And the present is an athlete without feet
It's already 6:43
And the corpse of the minute that passed
Tells me: That's how you live here, like it or not
And nostalgia puts a house in my head
And it's 6:50
Who told you that I
Was the dream you once dreamed?
Who told you that you
Would turn my future upside down?
It's already 7:16
And the corpse of the minute that passed
Tells me: Your strategy ruined you
There's nothing left to do but learn to live alone
If you have any guts left
The house is nothing more
Than a cemetery of stories
Buried in pits
That some call memories
Minutes, like salt in the wound
I spend my life, wearing out the clock
Minutes are the morgue of time
Corpses of moments that never return
There is no clock that turns backwards
As it hurts to waste
The instant when you are no longer here
How hard it is to fight
With the things that never come back
It's already 9:23
And the corpse of the minute that passed
Mocks my desire to kiss
The photo that you left on the bureau
My loneliness is your revenge
The ministry of time
Put headquarters on my pillow
There I find you at times
Though it's of no use
Minutes, like salt in the wound
I spend my life, wearing out the clock
Minutes are the morgue of time
Corpses of moments that never return
There is no clock that turns backwards
The wall clock
Announcing 6:23
The past with thirst
And the present is an athlete without feet
It's already 6:43
And the corpse of the minute that passed
Tells me: That's how you live here, like it or not
And nostalgia puts a house in my head
And it's 6:50
Who told you that I
Was the dream you once dreamed?
Who told you that you
Would turn my future upside down?
It's already 7:16
And the corpse of the minute that passed
Tells me: Your strategy ruined you
There's nothing left to do but learn to live alone
If you have any guts left
The house is nothing more
Than a cemetery of stories
Buried in pits
That some call memories
Minutes, like salt in the wound
I spend my life, wearing out the clock
Minutes are the morgue of time
Corpses of moments that never return
There is no clock that turns backwards
As it hurts to waste
The instant when you are no longer here
How hard it is to fight
With the things that never come back
It's already 9:23
And the corpse of the minute that passed
Mocks my desire to kiss
The photo that you left on the bureau
My loneliness is your revenge
The ministry of time
Put headquarters on my pillow
There I find you at times
Though it's of no use
Minutes, like salt in the wound
I spend my life, wearing out the clock
Minutes are the morgue of time
Corpses of moments that never return
There is no clock that turns backwards