Agua Rosada
Picaflor de Los Andes
Pink Water
Dark-skinned, black of soul
Why don't you want it to rain
If that's how the morning was
When I started loving you
Tomorrow when I leave
Don't cry pink water
You'll cry when I die
Bright red blood
In that mountain range
I will leave you a memory
Four pretty little flowers
And in them will be my name
