Fantasma translates directly to "ghost". It's an intriguing word that immediately conjures images of something ethereal and lingering, making it quite memorable.
In Ricardo Arjona's song, the word is used to describe the persistent, almost physical presence of a past lover. Even though she's gone, her "fantasma" (ghost) remains, filling the house with memories and sensations, highlighting the difficulty of moving on from a profound connection.
Arjona builds this one out of leftover evidence. A relationship has ended, but the apartment hasn't caught up: "Las colillas que dejaste en el balcón" [The cigarette butts you left on the balcony], lipstick on a glass, a smell that won't leave the kitchen. Every room still holds a trace of her, and he can't stop cataloguing them.
The chorus names the haunting directly: "Mientras tu fantasma se me inclina" [While your ghost leans towards me] and "Deteniendo la pared que da al desván" [Stopping the wall that leads to the attic]. It isn't a vague metaphor about memory — it's this specific couch, this specific kitchen, refusing to turn back into ordinary furniture.