Saturno is the Spanish word for the planet Saturn. But in this song, it represents something much more profound and heartbreaking.
Alborán uses it as a metaphor for a place where lost dreams reside, singing "En Saturno viven los hijos que nunca tuvimos" (In Saturn live the children we never had). This beautiful, cosmic imagery elevates a simple planet name into a symbol for a future that never came to be, making it an incredibly powerful and memorable word to learn.
Have you ever had a past love that just won't leave your head? Pablo Alborán really gets that feeling in "Saturno." He sings about how his ex "Vuelves / En cada sueño que tengo" [You return / In every dream I have], showing how deeply this person is still affecting him, even in his sleep. It's not just about missing someone, though; there's a real sting of regret and even anger here. He admits, "Yo no quería amarte / Tú me enseñaste a odiarte" [I didn't want to love you / You taught me to hate you], which is such a blunt and powerful line about how a relationship can turn so sour.
But the most captivating part is how he uses space to talk about what's lost. He imagines that "En Saturno / Viven los hijos que nunca tuvimos" [On Saturn / Live the children we never had], which is a heartbreaking way to think about a future that never happened. Then, on Pluto, he says "Aún se oyen gritos de amor" [Cries of love are still heard], suggesting a distant echo of their past passion. And on the Moon? "Gritan a solas tu voz y mi voz / Pidiendo perdón / Cosa que nunca pudimos hacer" [Your voice and my voice cry out alone / Asking for forgiveness / Something we could never do]. It's a really vivid picture of two people who couldn't reconcile, even in a desolate, imagined space. He also points out that his ex shares the blame, saying, "Tienes, la misma culpa que tengo" [You have the same blame I do], believing they feel the same pain, even if they won't admit it. It's a raw look at lingering heartbreak and all the 'what ifs' that come with it.