Abandonada

Disenchanted
you go through life;
abandoned
and your soul wounded.
And there is in your eyes
a sad disenchantment,
that with my song
I will erase.

Your soul asks for love
and in the depths of it
it found pain
and cruel bitterness.
And like a flower
you will wither
with no other consolation but to weep.

Softly, softly,
as the nightingale sings,
I wish I knew how to sing
the poem of your pain;
and on your lips I could soothe
this thirst of deep love
that I felt throbbing when I saw
of your dark eyes the light shining.