El Pajarillo

Oh, little bird that sings
in the calm mornings,
why do you bring happiness to some
and increase my sorrows?

Why have you punished
my love so harshly?
You will miss my shadow
when the sun wearies you.

Even my guitar weeps,
though it's just wood, hollow,
how can I not cry
if they take away what's mine?

What good is it for the captive
to have silver shackles
and a golden cage,
if freedom is what he lacks?