Rugas

If I think too much about life
I die young, my love.
My chest is strong,
In it I have accumulated so much pain.
The wrinkles have taken up residence on my face
I don't cry for anyone
To see me suffer from grief.

I who always knew
How to hide my sorrow.
No one ever saw me
With teary eyes.
I pretend to be happy
So no one sees my tears.
Happy is the one who knows how to suffer.