Era mi pebeta, una flor maleva,
mas linda que un dia dorado de sol.
Trenzas renegridas, mirada que rueda,
boca palpitante de fuego y de amor.
Para conquistarla yo me juge entero,
no valia la pena sin ella vivir.
Peleando con taitas en un entrevero,
pense que era lindo por ella morir.
Tiempo viejo,
caravana,
fugitiva,
donde estas?
Florido tiempo que añoro,
por sus caminos de olvido
viajan visiones que lloro,
sueno querido que te alejas.
Tiempo viejo,
caravana,
fugitiva,
donde estas?
Cinco anos pasaron de la primer cita,
burlon el destino me obligo a volver.
Que viejos los ojos de la muchachita,
que en un dia riendo me enseño a querer.
Fuimos sin pensarlo como dos extraños,
su boca marchita y mi suspirar.
Habiendo cenizas de los desengaños,
el recuerdo, amigo, es mejor borrar. |
My girl was a malignant flower,
prettier than a golden sunny day.
Blackish braids, a look that rolls,
mouth trembling of fire and love.
In order to conquer her I risked everything,
it wasn't worth living without her.
Fighting with brave men in a brawl,
I believed it was good to die for her.
Old time,
caravan,
fugitive,
where are you?
Flowery time that I yearn,
for its ways of forgetfulness
travel visions that I cry,
beloved dream that goes away.
Old time,
caravan,
fugitive,
where are you?
Five years passed from the first date,
the sardonic destiny forced me to return.
How old the eyes of the young woman,
who one day laughing, taught me to love.
We were, without thinking, like two strangers,
her withered mouth and my sighing.
There having ashes of the disillusions,
the memory, friend, is better to erase. |