Fragua de Los Cuatro Vientos

Forge of the four winds, where you forged jealousy, to fuel my sleepless nights: embers, coals, ashes.
That I suffered so much for you that in sorrow I got lost, out of fear of losing you I lost what I had achieved.
I no longer want to have you, as having you means nothing,
Not even the reflection in the water, nor the reflection in the water of the ill-tempered one.
Forge of the old blacksmith, with the apron of good leather,
Where men rivet their sorrows in the living fire.
Forge of the four boots, of the four horsemen,
Where men mend the wound of their insides.
That I suffered so much for you that in sorrow I got lost, out of fear of losing you I lost what I had achieved.
You won't make me suffer again or any affront, wherever you want to go, may God protect you.
I no longer want to have you, as having you means nothing, not even the reflection in the water, nor the reflection in the water of the ill-tempered one.
And now sing to me, gypsy, face of fresh mud, in case I find solace or a beautiful arabesque in your laughter.