Tatuaje

He came on a ship, with a foreign name
I found him at the port one evening,
when the white lighthouse over the sailboats
was casting its silver kiss.

He was beautiful and blond like beer,
his chest tattooed with a heart,
in his bitter voice, there was the sorrow
painful and tired like a bandoneon.

And with two glasses of liquor
on the stained counter,
he whispered to me
the old story of his love.

Look at my tattooed arm
with this woman's name,
it's the memory of a past
to never return again.

She loved me and forgot me,
while I, I didn't forget her
and forever I am marked
with this woman's name.

He left one afternoon, with an unknown destination,
on the same ship that met her
but between his lips, he left forgotten,
the kiss of a lover, that poisoned her.

Wandering, she searches for him in all the ports,
she asks the sailors for him,
and no one tells her, if he's alive or dead
and she continues in her doubt, faithfully searching for him.

And she's slowly bleeding
drinking from counter to counter,
in front of a glass of liquor
where her pain drowns.

Look at his name tattooed
in the caress of my skin,
I've marked it with slow fire
and I'll go with him forever.

Maybe you have forgotten me already
but I, I haven't forgotten you,
and until I find you
I'll search for you tirelessly.