Muñeca triste

Like a sad doll
I saw you in the early morning,
with the mascara of your pride
you seemed so happy.

Lace is not enough
nor is champagne,
when you have a sorrow
you must know how to cry it out.

On this party night
I know you will cry,
dressed in borrowed clothes
and so far from home.

You went out to seek fortune
and today you're dying in Pigalle
without understanding what
the one who asked you to dance is saying.

May God forgive the guilty one,
for I will not forgive
for the harm he has done to you
poor doll woman!