Learn Spanish With Morat with these 23 Song Recommendations (Full Translations Included!)
Yo Contigo, Tú Conmigo bursts with the electric feeling of meeting someone who seems instantly familiar - as if destiny itself has been waiting to make the introduction. From the opening “¿Por qué, por qué, por qué?” the singers wonder why they feel the other person’s presence everywhere: in the mirror, in their own voice, even when they stand alone. The chorus flips that curiosity into confidence. Side by side, they promise to shout to the sky, rewrite any story, and turn the whole world upside-down if that is what it takes to stay together.
At its heart, this pop anthem is a rallying cry for partnership. Morat and Álvaro Soler celebrate the unbeatable strength that comes from unity – two voices fusing into one fearless force. No matter the obstacles (wind, oceans, or a silencing crowd), the pair vows to push forward, louder and stronger. The playful “gon gon goro gon gon” hook drives home the joy of the connection, turning their pledge into an unforgettable chant. In short, the song is pure optimism: you with me, me with you, and nothing is impossible.
506 invites us to pick up the phone to the past. Morat and Juanes spin the story of a late-night call to an old sweetheart who once lived in apartment 506. Instantly, memories flood back: scribbling phone numbers on paper, lazy afternoons glued to a TV that no one was watching, and the electric rush of first love at sixteen. The narrator dials almost by instinct, hoping to hear a familiar voice and to check if anything has truly changed. As the ringtone echoes, he lists the tiny details that used to define her—summer trips to Cartagena, a fear of flying—proving that love may fade, but memories keep perfect score.
Yet the song is not simply a nostalgic postcard; it is a confession of vulnerability. The moment she answers, the reasons for the breakup vanish from his mind. All that matters is the warmth of her “Hello” and the reminder of why they once believed love could last forever. “506” balances wistful longing with a playful, folk-pop bounce, making listeners sway while reflecting on those people we never quite stop caring about, no matter how many songs—or years—hide them away.
In Cuando Nadie Ve, Colombian folk-pop group Morat turns clandestine longing into a sunny yet heartbreaking anthem. One moment the singer basks in an endless summer, melted by a single look; the next, that warmth freezes into winter when he discovers someone else waiting in her arms. The melody keeps things light and catchy, but the words reveal a tug-of-war between hope and cold reality.
The story is all about a love that must stay undercover. In public, the pair wear friendly masks — "fingir que somos amigos" — while their hearts race in secret. They rehearse excuses for nosy friends, dodge the stray bullets of gossip, and promise to give everything once the world looks away. It is a dance of fire and ice, a bittersweet celebration of those stolen moments when nobody is watching, wrapped in rhythms that invite you to sing, sway, and sharpen your Spanish at the same time.
“No Se Va” turns heartsick longing into an irresistible folk-pop sing-along. The Colombian band Morat paints the picture of someone who falls in love easily yet struggles terribly to forget. The title means “It doesn’t leave,” and that stubborn presence is the ex-lover’s memory, still flashing in photos, phone calls never answered, and daydreams that stretch “from Bogotá to Buenos Aires.”
With upbeat guitars and hand-claps laced through bittersweet lyrics, the song balances hope and heartache. Every emphatic “Quédate” (“Stay”) shows the narrator’s refusal to let go, convinced that “un amor así no se olvida” (“a love like this is never forgotten”). Even as he vows to “train his broken heart” for a chance encounter tomorrow, the refrain circles back to the same truth: the memory may hurt, but it simply no se va — it will not go away.
"Sin Ti" throws us into that all-too-familiar post-breakup performance where we swear we are totally over our ex… while clinging to every memory. Morat and Jay Wheeler give voice to a heart that has turned self-deception into a full-time job: deleting photos, memorizing excuses, even convincing itself that being “better off drunk” is a victory. Each line mixes swagger with confession, showing how denial becomes a survival tool when love feels lethal.
Beneath the bravado lies a raw truth: pretending not to hurt can hurt even more. The song reveals the tug-of-war between the stories we tell others and the feelings we still hide from ourselves, reminding us that sometimes you have to fake forgetting before you can really let go. Listeners ride a bittersweet wave of catchy rhythms and vulnerable lyrics that prove the hardest person to convince you are fine is… you.
"París" tosses you into a roller-coaster of love, frustration, and self-reflection. Morat’s warm folk-pop guitars meet Duki’s urban punch to tell the story of a couple who could have lit up Paris, yet end up surrounded by emotional smoke. The narrator is first pushed away then pulled back into a “battle,” only to realize that all the blame-shifting is a mirage. With the hook “No te mientas, el problema eres tú,” he flips the mirror on his partner: she wants flowers then burns them, asks for devotion then calls it indifference. Each line turns the spotlight on contradictory demands that make true connection impossible.
Duki’s verse spices things up with pop-culture flair—Messi, Jordan sneakers, diamonds—showing just how far he would have gone to revive the romance. Still, both voices land on the same hard truth: love should not be a gamble that always ends in pain. The heart of the song is liberation—recognizing a toxic dynamic, setting boundaries, and accepting losses as lessons. “París” becomes an anthem for anyone ready to trade unhealthy passion for self-respect, all while dancing to an irresistibly catchy beat.
Aprender A Quererte is a heartfelt confession where Morat paints love as an exciting class you never want to skip. From the very first glance, the singer feels a mix of fear and madness, convinced that losing this person would mean losing the greatest treasure. He admits he knows nothing about their past, yet he is ready to pick up his pen—spelling mistakes and all—to study every detail, read every dream, and learn how to love them the way they deserve.
Throughout the song, Morat promises a relationship full of “more additions than subtractions,” where there are no unanswered questions, only solutions shared together. It is a pledge to invest time, honesty, and patience so that both partners not only love each other, but also miss each other in the healthiest way. In short, the track turns romance into a beautiful lifelong syllabus: understand their dreams, write honest lyrics, and stay by their side without rest.
"En Un Sólo Día" drops us into a cozy, time-worn bar where a shy protagonist musters the courage to say “Would you like to dance?”. The moment their hands meet, the room fills with the swirl of bachata, merengue, and classic boleros. Between whispered conversation and playful bumps of their bodies, Cupid quietly draws his bow, turning an ordinary night into a heart-pounding adventure on the dance floor. The vibrant Latin rhythms mirror the rush of discovering someone who instantly feels familiar.
When the music fades and the dancers part ways, the real surprise hits: in just one day and a single dance, he already misses her as if they had shared a lifetime. The song captures that magical instant where emotion overrules logic, routine, and every “rule” about taking things slow. It celebrates love-at-first-sight, reminding us that sometimes all it takes is a spark, a song, and a dance to feel completely, wonderfully hooked.
Debí Suponerlo is Morat’s bittersweet confession that he should have seen the breakup coming. From the very first encounter, everything “sabía a despedida,” and the singer now replays every hug and kiss he failed to prolong. The song moves between tender memories and raw regret, as he pictures himself in Mexico City’s Roma neighborhood, realizing the streets feel empty because his heart is “partido completamente en dos.”
With catchy melodies and vivid storytelling, Morat captures the sting of hindsight: If only I had held you tighter… If only I had stolen one more kiss… Each lyric underlines how love can fade quietly while ordinary moments suddenly turn into last times. “Debí Suponerlo” is a relatable anthem for anyone who has ever looked back and wished they had loved louder before the final goodbye.
Imagine squeezing every sunset, kiss, and secret into the tiniest slice of time. "Por Si No Te Vuelvo A Ver" is Morat’s heartfelt reminder that love is not about how long it lasts, but how fully we live it while it’s here. Over pop rhythms and warm Colombian storytelling, the lyrics picture two travelers in Andalusia who already feel autumn’s chill creeping in. They know their paths may split when September comes, yet they decide to celebrate every remaining moment, refusing to leave a single story untold.
Morat sings about pausing the clock, sharing every stolen dawn, and freezing memories “frente al mar” so that distance, even as far as Neptune, can never erase them. It is a joyful, slightly melancholic anthem that invites us to love boldly, speak openly, and kiss freely – just in case we never get the chance again.
Have you ever finally patched up a broken heart, only for your ex to knock on the door as if nothing happened? That is exactly the emotional roller-coaster Morat sings about in “Cómo Te Atreves.” The Colombian band tells the story of someone who spent years healing after a painful breakup—counting the months, postcards, and broken promises—only to see the former lover appear again. Shocked and indignant, the narrator demands, “How dare you come back?” He feels betrayed, remembers every moment of loneliness, yet discovers that his claim of being over her was a lie.
The song blends frustration and lingering affection. On one hand, our storyteller calls out her fickle loyalty to “the wind” and insists she has no right to “raise the ashes into fire” again. On the other hand, he admits he still cares, sensing that his bravado is crumbling. With catchy folk-pop rhythms and spirited percussion, Morat turns a tale of unresolved love into an anthemic sing-along, inviting listeners to shout their own “¡Cómo te atreves!” while secretly wondering whether they, too, would open the door if the past came knocking.
Ready to march into the battlefield of love? In Besos en Guerra, Colombian folk-pop sensations Morat link up with iconic rocker Juanes to turn heartbreak into an epic adventure. The title means “Kisses in War”, and from the opening line the singers reject the idea that love can be forgotten easily. Romance becomes a combat zone filled with irresistible kisses that can both heal and destroy, while the bright guitars and pounding drums echo the rhythm of marching feet.
Lyrically, the song follows someone who knows perfectly well that their lover’s kisses are lethal, yet still dives back into the fray. Promises sting, forgiveness is off the table, and every embrace steals another heartbeat. Even so, the narrator vows to win the war, insisting that dying of love is better than living without it. Playful, bittersweet, and proudly dramatic, the track reminds us that true passion often comes with battle scars—and that sometimes we choose to lose just to feel alive.
Faltas Tú is Morat’s bittersweet postcard from the edge of a breakup. With playful comparisons—“a galaxy without stars,” “a shoe without its sock”—the Colombian pop band paints how utterly incomplete life feels when that special someone is gone. Every party is pointless, every street sounds empty, and even the simplest outing “tastes like nothing” because her absence has turned the singer into “a zero on the left,” an expression in Spanish for feeling useless.
Yet beneath the self-deprecating humor and raw frustration, there’s stubborn hope. He keeps most of her messages, refuses to be “the loser who doesn’t insist,” and clings to the belief that she is “one in a million” who will eventually return. The song swings between resignation and resolve, capturing heartbreak’s exhausting loop: missing, remembering, resisting, and—above all—waiting for the day when she’s back and life can finally run at 100 percent again.
Feel the rush of a summer romance that begins with a single glance! In “A Dónde Vamos” Morat tells the tale of two strangers who lock eyes in Madrid and instantly feel as if they have known each other for a thousand years. The singer compares the first taste of love to the most delicious drink imaginable, describing how every sip (or kiss) leaves him happily intoxicated. What starts as a spontaneous question — “Where are we going?” — quickly turns into an adventure that beats all the odds, proving that love at first sight can survive beyond the holiday glow.
Beneath the upbeat rhythm, the lyrics explore destiny, luck, and the magic of living in the moment. Instead of planning every detail, the couple chooses to stay together, keep celebrating, and see where life takes them. Their story reminds listeners that sometimes the best journeys begin with a bold confession and a leap of faith. So press play, let the music sweep you away, and ask yourself the same exciting question: ¿A dónde vamos?
In "Ya No Estás Tú", Colombian band Morat paints the picture of someone who swears they have moved on. Line after line the singer claims they no longer suffer, lose sleep or feel any pain now that their ex is gone. The chorus bursts with confident declarations like "No voy a darlo todo por ti" and "Ya no me falta lo que te di", as if the narrator were crossing each lingering feeling off a checklist of heartbreak recovery.
But listen closely and another story peeks through the bravado. The repeated need to insist "mira que no estoy sufriendo" hints that the wound is still tender, and time has only rearranged—not erased—those emotions. The song’s final twist, "¿A quién engaño? Eres mi nuevo vicio", reveals the truth: the ex is still an irresistible habit. Morat turns this inner contradiction into a catchy anthem that captures the messy, back-and-forth reality of getting over someone, where confidence and vulnerability dance to the same beat.
No Hay Más Que Hablar is Colombian band Morat’s spirited farewell to a love that walked out on its own two feet, only to come knocking again later. The lyrics paint a vivid scene: a relationship table already overloaded with unplayed cards, a heart smashed like scattered puzzle pieces, and an ex who chose boarding passes over commitment. While the other person was busy circling the globe, partying in Barcelona, and trying on new identities, the narrator was stuck counting sleepless seconds at home. Now, when that same traveler returns expecting an open door, the answer is firm: there is nothing left to discuss.
Far from a sad ballad, the song is a brisk anthem of self-respect. It blends catchy folk-pop rhythms with sharp declarations: no more tears, no more empty promises, no more space for guilt. By the final chorus, the listener feels the relief of finally letting go and learning to live without someone who already let go first. It is a reminder that closure sometimes means simply refusing to reopen the conversation.
Mi Vida Entera is Morat’s playful invitation to dive head-first into an all-or-nothing romance. The singer admits he is petrified on stage and that locking eyes with his lover burns, yet he still promises to melt her heart of stone, chase away her troubles, and turn winter into spring. The message is clear: choose courage over caution, because if you marry a crazy man, you will see the magic little by little.
When the chorus arrives, that courage becomes a dance. The lovers spin until words and kisses blur, begging time to let this song last my whole life. Saying I love you is not enough—they want total commitment, a fairy-tale ending written by their footsteps on the dance floor. It is a celebration of recklessly hopeful love, where risking everything is the only way to gain everything.
Lo Que Hará Mi Boca imagines that electric moment when you run into the person you still secretly love. Morat and Antonio José confess that while their hands can stay still and their eyes can look away, their mouth might betray them with an impulsive kiss or words they should not say. The song plays with that mix of fear and excitement: What if I lose control? What if I say what I really feel? Each chorus pulses with the warning, “Yo no quiero responder por lo que hará mi boca,” reminding us how hard it is to keep emotions on a leash.
Behind the catchy folk-pop beat lies a bittersweet truth. The singers admit they tried to move on, even pretending friendship when miles apart, yet one photo or memory drags them back. They wrestle with the risk of reopening old wounds versus staying safely silent. In the end, the track turns a simple body part—the mouth—into a symbol of all the unspoken longing that bubbles up when love is unfinished.
Have you ever felt that spark of destiny in the middle of an ordinary night out? "Simplemente Pasan" captures that exact thrill. In a cozy, familiar bar, a shy admirer spots a woman who keeps returning to the same spot, always effortlessly charming with her natural look. He dreams of asking her to dance a classic Juan Luis Guerra tune, of wandering the city together, beers in hand, with only the stars as witnesses. The chorus reminds us that the best things in life do not need planning or perfection—they simply happen.
As the song unfolds, time circles back to the same bar, the same hour, and another chance. This time, hope speaks louder: What is the worst that could happen? Maybe they will like each other, maybe they even knew each other in a past life. Morat’s heartfelt storytelling, joined by Cami’s soulful voice, turns a small moment into a celebration of serendipity, courage, and the belief that when something good is meant to be, no force can stop it—it just happens.
Imagine being so head-over-heels that you dial a live radio show just to beam your feelings through the speakers. That is exactly what happens in Al Aire. The shy protagonist has no courage to confess face to face, so he trades his “fifteen minutes of fame” for the hope that she is somewhere, headphones on, catching his voice as he sends “besos al aire” — kisses floating through the airwaves. Every lyric vibrates with sweet anxiety, turning the radio into both cupid and confessional.
Morat’s folk-pop warmth wraps this quirky love plan in bright guitars and sing-along hooks. Beneath the playful surface lies a universal message: sometimes love demands a leap, even if that leap is nothing more than a phone call and a song request. With a wink and a wistful sigh, Al Aire celebrates the courage it takes to speak up before the next song — or the next moment — slips away.
Otras Se Pierden is Morat’s melodic diary of a heartbreak, narrated like a countdown to recovery. The verses walk us through the first cinco días of raw hope, the brave promise made on day six, and the endless nights when even returning her clothes or burning old love notes cannot silence the urge to call. Each image is vivid: glasses of liquor that beg you not to dial, months that feel like whole lifetimes, arrows looking for a heart that is no longer there.
The chorus flips the pain into wisdom. Love is pictured as a rule-free game and a battlefield at once: sometimes you win, sometimes you lose. Sleepless nights become training sessions that sharpen resilience, and although there are no shortcuts to forgetting, time patiently gathers the broken pieces until the flame finally fades. The song ends with relief rather than regret, reminding us that nobody dies from trying to move on and that a single future kiss can finish extinguishing the past. Morat turns heartbreak into an anthem of survival and growth, perfect fuel for both the ears and the English-learning heart.
Ready for a love sequel? In "Punto Y Aparte", Colombian band Morat turns heartbreak into a cliff-hanger. The narrator meets an old flame after months of regret, carrying the weight of every unsent letter and every tear caused by his departure. Now that fate has brought them face-to-face, he is determined to press pause on the past and start a brand-new paragraph of their story. The title literally means “period and apart”, the Spanish way of saying new paragraph—perfect for a song about wiping the slate clean.
Morat mixes raw confession with fiery promises: he owns up to “el tiempo perdido” (the time lost), vows never to let go of her hands, and is even willing to put his own in the fire if that is what it takes. The chorus feels like an emotional sprint, fueled by lines such as “yo nunca me cansé de amarte” (I never got tired of loving you). Every verse shouts that second chances are worth the risk, no matter how much the ashes might sting. By the end, you can almost hear the suitcase hit the floor and the pen scratch out a fresh chapter—punto y aparte, let the next sentence of their love begin!