Donde Estará Mi Vida

Once a nightingale
In the clear of dawn
Was caught by a flower
Far from his nightingale

Waiting for his return in the nest
She saw that the evening was dying
And in the night singing to the river
Half crazy with love she said

Where will my life be
Why doesn't it come?
That little rose lit up
Entertains me

Clear water from paths
Among reeds and willows
Tell him that
The roses of the rose bushes have thorns

Tell him that there are no colors
That I don't have
That I'm dying of love
Tell him to come