Mis Flores Negras
Carlos Gardel
My Black Flowers
Listen, under the ruins of my passions
At the bottom of this soul that you no longer delight
Among the dust of dreams and illusions
My black flowers sprout numb
They are my pains, buds made
With intense sorrows from my bowels
They bury their roots, like ferns
In the humid cracks of the mountains
They are your disdain and your rigors
They are your treacheries and your deviations
With your vibrant and scorching kisses
In adorned petals, black and cold
They are memories of those hours
When, captured in my arms, you fell asleep
While I sighed for the dawns
Of your eyes, dawns that were not mine
They are my sighs and my reproaches
Hidden in this soul that you no longer delight
That's why they are as black as the nights
In the icy poles, my black flowers
So keep this sad, weak bunch
That I offer you from those somber flowers
Keep it, fear nothing: It's a remnant
From the garden of my deep melancholies
