Un Ramito de Violetas
Zalo Reyes
A Bunch of Violets
She was happy in her marriage
Although her husband was the same demon
The man had a bit of a bad temper
She complained that he was never tender
For more than three years now
She has been receiving letters from a stranger
Letters full of poetry
That have brought back her joy
Who was writing verses to you?
Tell me, girl, who was it
He sent you flowers in the spring
Every ninth of November
As always without a card
He sent you a bunch of violets
Sometimes she dreams and imagines
What the one who esteems her so much will be like
He will probably be a man with gray hair
Open smile and tenderness in his hands
Who is suffering in silence
Who could be her secret love
She who knows nothing
Looks at her husband and then stays silent
Who was writing verses to you?
Tell me, girl, who was it
He sent you flowers in the spring
Every ninth of November
As always without a card
He sent you a bunch of violets
Every evening when her husband returns
Tired from work, he looks at her sideways
He says nothing because he knows everything
She is like that, happy in any way
For he is the one writing her verses
He is her lover, her secret love
She who knows nothing
Looks at her husband and then stays silent
Who was writing verses to you?
Tell me, girl, who was it
He sent you flowers in the spring
Every ninth of November
As always without a card
He sent you a bunch of violets
