De Amores Tuyos

This letter I write to you
In my own way
With just a few words
I tell you everything

Thoughts that fly
More than birds
Take this sigh
To the one you already know

Tell me which of the evils
Is more terrible
If love or jealousy
Or an impossible

I would like to have you
But it's too late
Green and wet firewood
Burns but does not ignite

I don't know what I said to her
That she cried
Women's customs
Crying for nothing

They say frosts
Dry the weeds
That's how I'm drying up
From your loves

A hummingbird flying
Pecked your mouth
Thinking that your lips
Were two roses