Mariposas literally means "butterflies." While it's a common word, its use in this song is particularly evocative and culturally significant in Spanish.
In Spanish, the phrase "tener mariposas en el estómago" (to have butterflies in the stomach) is a common idiom for feeling nervous or excited, especially in a romantic context. Dani Martin uses mariposas to hint at these intense, fluttering feelings of love and anticipation, contrasting them with the harsh realities of life. It's a beautiful and relatable image that captures the emotional core of the song.
Dani Martín opens "París" wanting one specific morning: "Una mañana de diciembre en París" (a December morning in Paris), where the person he's singing to finally turns around and says yes. That's the whole ask, not a grand gesture, just permission to stop looking back and keep walking forward.
The chorus is where the song gets its bite. He lists what we always chase, roses, "Venecia, Verona y París" (Venice, Verona and Paris), then sets it against what actually shows up: truth mixed with lies, butterflies next to worms with no silk, and "serpientes venenosas" (poisonous snakes). Even the costume we wear for love "se rompe al vivir" (breaks once you actually live it). By the second verse he's naming exactly what's missing without her, her arms, her body, that city, and admits he'd rather have solitude, since it's the one thing that's stuck around. The last line says it plainest: "lo bonito dura un rato y se vuelve a ir" (the beautiful part lasts a while, then leaves again).