Dicen que por las noches
no más se le iba en puro llorar;
dicen que no comía,
no más se le iba en puro tomar.
Juran que el mismo cielo
se estremecía al oír su llanto,
cómo sufrió por ella,
que hasta en su muerte la fue llamando:
Ay, ay, ay, ay, ay cantaba,
ay, ay, ay, ay, ay gemía,
Ay, ay, ay, ay, ay cantaba,
de pasión mortal moría.
Que una paloma triste
muy de mañana le va a cantar
a la casita sola
con sus puertitas de par en par;
juran que esa paloma
no es otra cosa más que su alma,
que todavía espera a que regrese la desdichada.
Cucurrucucú paloma, cucurrucucú no llores.
Las piedras jamás, paloma,
¿qué van a saber de amores?
Cucurrucucú, cucurrucucú,
cucurrucucú, cucurrucucú,
cucurrucucú, paloma, ya no le llores. | Coo… Coo…'' Dove
They say that every night
he was wholly overtaken by tears;
They say he never ate, but only drank.
They swear that even the heavens
trembled to hear his wail,
he suffered for her so,
that even in death, he never stopped calling for her:
"Ay, ay, ay, ay, ay," he sang,
"Ay, ay, ay, ay, ay," he howled,
"Ay, ay, ay, ay, ay," he sang,
tormented by a fatal passion. They say that in early morning
a sad dove sings to the little empty house
with its wide open little doors. They swear that the dove
is none other than his spirit,
hoping still for the return
of the ill-fated woman "Coo... coo..."
Dove,
"Coo... coo..."
don't weep.
What will these stones ever know, little dove,
of love?
"Coo... coo… coo... coo...
coo… coo... coo...coo…
coo... coo…"
Little dove, do not weep anymore.
(English translation by Genève Gil) |