Pena Mora

When through the fields of green prickly pear the bells of the 'madrugá' ring, and the moon jumps over the hills, and by my side, side, I feel you arrive. And even though I know, my life, that I am dreaming: that you are a thousand leagues away and I am in the Legion, it seems as if I am looking at you, painful rose of my heart. Dark sorrow, dark sorrow, what a hammer of torment, and in my temple at all hours. Dark sorrow, dark sorrow, that burns me slowly from night to dawn. With a knife I would open myself so you could see my heart... And how sad it would make you, to see it black as coal. Dark sorrow, dark sorrow, that clouds my reason, and it's like a lion that devours me from within...