Palomita Blanca

Her absence gave me this anguish, and sometimes her memory is a good
That soon drowns me in pain... and nothing consoles me
Of always going further from seeing myself without her.
My step goes forward and my heart goes back.
The course that cruelly takes me away, steals her loving caresses,
And only in thought do I see her, listen to her enraptured,
Kiss her eagerly, feel her by my side.
And I go, dreaming like this, further each time...

White dove that flies by heading to the little house where my love is,
White dove, for the sad absent one you are like a reminder letter...
If you see the one I adore, without saying I cry, give her some idea
Of how bitter it is to live without her, to lose her loving warmth...
Go ahead, horses of my troop, for we are a wandering wind that becomes a storm
And in the illness of absence, life slips away always giving farewell to the beloved...
White dove! Fly night and day from my nest in search
And write in the sky with serene flight: 'never forgets you, only thinks of you'.

Those who have never left their beloved at a distance do not know
The sorrow that a harsh rigor imposes on the soul, coming from the side,
That at times names her measuring the path,
Looking over there in the shadows at the lands she left behind...
I have seen her cry in my arms, I have seen her turn around when leaving
Waving her warm handkerchief, and then shrinking away
Her distant image... and in my soul enlarged
Her charm... and this pain of not having her anymore...