Guitarras Lloren Guitarras

Guitars, cry guitars,
violins cry the same;
don't let me go
with the silence of your singing.

Let's shout with an open heart
a song that makes the world tremble
the world that is the great harbor
where some arrive and others leave.

Now it's my turn to leave them,
now it's my turn to march;
guitars, cry guitars
that there remains full of love,
attached to each string,
crying oceans my heart.

Now it's my turn to leave them...

Guitars... cry guitars.