Palomita mía
Horacio Sanguinetti
My little dove
Complaints of a past, blind guitar player
Sad vidalita, memories of love,
Shadows in the streets, shadows in the sky,
A song that fades away like a prayer.
Black braids, beating of emotions,
Small drum and rain, crying a goodbye.
And today a poor blind man, already without illusions,
Sings his sadness with this song:
My little dove,
vidalita,
where is your nest...
And in the eyes of the blind man appears
An old pain that makes him cry.
Evoking the white dove
that flew from his dovecote.
My little dove,
vidalita,
where is your nest...
The cicada of joyful life laughs,
only the guitar seems to understand,
to that holy hand that seeks in its notes,
the broken words of that woman.
Black braids, beating of emotions,
Small drum and rain, crying a goodbye.
Shadows in the streets, shadows in the sky,
A song that fades away with a voice of pain.
