Amurado

I bell to my catrera and I find it desolate.
All I have as a souvenir is the little picture that is there,
old clothes, some flowers and my tormented soul...
That's all that's left since she left here.

One afternoon sadder than the sorrow that afflicts me
he fixed his little bagayito and left me in the dock.
I did not say a word, not a reproach, not a complaint....
I looked at her walking away and I thought to myself:
It's all over!

If she could see me! I'm so old!
My head is white!
Could it be the sadness
of my black loneliness?
It must be, because I am crossed
so many fulsome berretines
that I go to the cafes
in search of happiness.

Bulincito, you know my bitter misfortunes,
don't be surprised that I talk to myself, for my pain is so great!
If I lack your caresses, your consolations, your tenderness,
what will be left for me in my years, if my life is in her love?

How many nights I wander in anguish, in silence
remembering my past, with my friend the illusion!...
I go in curda... I do not deny that it will be very shameful,
but I carry my poor heart more in curda!