Pobre de Mí
Agustín Lara
Poor Me
Sun of my life, light of my eyes
Feel my hands, how they caress your smooth skin
My poor hands, broken wings
Crucified, crucified, under your feet
Open your arms, wonderful
And between sobs drink my soul, which is for you
What fault do I have, to be so yours
That your pride is my chain, poor me
Sun of my life, light of my eyes
Feel my hands, how they caress your smooth skin
My poor hands, broken wings
Crucified, crucified, under your feet
Open your arms, wonderful
And between sobs drink my soul, which is for you
What fault do I have, to be so yours
That your pride is my chain, poor me
