Amapola

In the heart
of the scented Pampa
the sound
of a sweet serenade goes.

Among the flowers,
the gypsy sings to his beloved
the beautiful song
with immense passion.

Poppy,
sweetest Poppy,
you alone are
the sphinx of my heart.

I desire you,
I call you madly
to tell you I love you
passionately.

Poppy,
most charming Poppy,
you are the light of my dreams.

Delightful,
harmonious
like the sound
of my mandolin.

Already
the dawn breaks from afar
and still
the poor gypsy sings.

Up there,
he waits in vain for
a kiss and a flower
a sigh of love.

Poppy,
most charming Poppy,
you are the light of my dreams.

Delightful,
harmonious
like the sound
of my mandolin.