La Canción de Amalia

The blood of forty soaked
Your divine face, jasmine hue,
Suffering lily of tyranny
Buenos Aires never forgets you.

You lived dreaming in the lonely estate
And the river gave you its deadly song,
The willows on the long street sigh,
In the distance, a love song was heard.

Belgrano loved you, tucumán jasmine,
The dagger of roses sought his heart,
Your beautiful eyes cried in anguish,
On the red nights of the restorer.

With sky-blue ribbons in your black braids
You opened the door to the old garden.
Porteno guitars sang of glory
Of those loves, they sang for me.

The daggers circled the empty estate,
The sweet guitar stopped playing.
Eduardo Belgrano was dying
And there in the rose bushes, a dagger dripped.

He dreamed of being free, dreamed you were his
And in your black eyes, he saw freedom.
He looked at the sky-blue ribbon in your braids,
Kissed your pupils and spoke no more.

The weeping willows trembling by the river
And the wind in the bars of the southern neighborhood
Sang your idyll, of love and death,
On the long street under the blue sky.

A painful sigh, of love without fortune,
You heard, Amalia, the burning song,
That Eduardo Belgrano, with a dying voice,
Sang in your ear, saying goodbye.