Mañana iré temprano

For a month I have been prostrate...
How many Sundays you miss me.
And today, on your day, well loved,
You'll be missing my flowers
And I will not be by your side.
Cry the autumn rain
On your grave and my sadness.
Today, as never before, you are so alone...!
We are both alone...!
Bitter loneliness...!

Tomorrow I'll go early
With the flowers you loved.
And being there, by your side,
Will be a comfort, my sweet love.
I will call you To tell you: beloved, here I am...!
You were never forgotten by my emotion.
And I will talk to you,
And you won't be so lonely...
As lonely as I am.
Tomorrow I'll come early,
As soon as the dawn breaks,
To bring you, well-beloved
The evergreen of my pain.

I'm still prostrate in this bed.
You've been waiting for me for six months...
Today I looked out of the window,
And saw the spring
Painting the morning.
The sky has swallows,
The tree, flower; the air, scent...
But you are always alone,
And I live an autumn
Of bitter loneliness.