‘‘ Desventura’’

Come, misfortune, do not cry for not having anyone to guard you or to speak to you of love. Come, wind with its laughter to refresh my joy. Come, breeze, kiss me, like the moon that longs to kiss the sea on its mouth. If they don't want to love me, I'll make myself of stones, of rock. Come, misfortune, cry, for from tears a sorrow is born, which incites my soul to begin to sing. Who told me of happiness and not to bury me in the mud? Who showed me the caress? Who deceived me so? Who didn't tell me of pain? Oh, I would be asleep or awake. Who told me of love, oh, if they were right? Come, misfortune, do not cry because you have too much sorrow, because you lack flowers. Come, wind, caress me with its fragrance of birds. Come, for I want to kiss you, like the moon that longs to kiss the sea on its mouth. If they don't want to love me, I'll become stone, rock. Come, misfortune, cry, for from tears a sorrow is born that incites my soul to begin to sing.

Ven desventura, no llores
por no tener quien te guarde
o quien te hable de amores.

Venga viento con su risa
a refrescar mi alegría.
Venga a besarme la brisa,
como la luna que al mar
ansía besar en su boca,
si no me quieren amar
me haré de piedras, de roca.

Ven, desventura, llora
que del llanto me nace una pena,
que incita a mi alma
para empezar a cantar.

¿Quien me contó de la dicha
y no enterrarme en el lodo?
¿Quién me mostró la caricia?
¿Quién me engañó de ese modo?
¿Quién no me habló del dolor?
Ay, sería dormido o despierto
¿Quién me contó del amor,
ay, si estuviera en lo cierto?

Ven, desventura, no llores
porque te sobre una pena,
porque te falten las flores.

Venga, viento, a acariciarme
con su fragancia de aves.
Venga que quiero besarle,
como la luna que al mar
ansía besar en su boca.
Si no me quieren amar
me haré de piedra, de roca.

Ven, desventura, llora
que del llanto me nace una pena
que incita mi alma
para empezar a cantar.