Quemá esas cartas

Burn those letters where I have recorded
Alone and sick, my atrocious misfortune,
Let no one know that I loved you so much,
Let no one know, only God.
 
Burn them soon, and let the world ignore
The immense sorrow that suffering is,
A young man, who killed the deceit
A good man, who dying goes.
 
I loved you so much that my saintly mother
I almost forgot her for thinking of you,
And look ungrateful how they ended
All the dreams that lived in me.
 
I no longer wait for your love to return
To the sweet nest where yesterday it was born,
I no longer believe that your white hand
Will close the wound that opened in my chest.
 
And I forgive you because he who loved
Never curses what he kissed yesterday,
Groans and crawls without taking revenge.
Dies, in silence, as I die.
 
But when in the arms of another blissful being
You fall surrendered of pleasure and love,
Remember at least that you have left truncated
An existence that pain killed.