La Cueca Triste

Ballad, I’ve got a heartache,
I loved you with bad luck.
Ballad, that’s life,
like wanting death.

I would’ve given my blood
to protect you.
My love was like the wind
that never grows old.

That never grows old, yeah,
the gust of wind
slipped away from me, little ballad,
my whole soul.

Go on, my bad star,
I’ve got a heartache.