Amurado

I ring the bell at my catrera and find it desolate.
All I have as a memory is the little picture that's there,
old clothes, some flowers, and my tormented soul...
That's all that's left since she left here.

One sadder afternoon than the sorrow that afflicts me,
she packed her little bag and left me sulking.
I didn't say a word, not a reproach, not a complaint...
I watched her walk away and thought:
It's all over!

If she saw me! I'm so old!
My head is white!
Could it be the sadness
of my black loneliness?
It must be, because such lousy whims cross my mind
that I go to the cafes
to seek happiness.

Little room that knows my bitter misfortunes,
Don't be surprised if I talk to myself. My pain is so great!
If I lack her caresses, her comforts, her tenderness,
what will I have at my age, if my life is in her love?

How many nights I wander, anguished, silent,
remembering my past, with my friend illusion!...
I'm drunk... I don't deny it, it will be very shameful,
but I carry my poor heart more drunk than anything!