Cinco Farolas

I don't listen to what the tongues of the neighbors say
because I know well enough
for whom their person is.
Five blue stars
light up five streetlights
from their house to my house,
from their mouth to my mouth.

Five years old, I love her,
five years old, she adores me,
the bad people who know
who know about our things.

If I know she loves me, as I love her,
why give three quarters to the town crier
from her door to her door
the little green path doesn't grow grass, doesn't grow grass.

I don't even want to know,
neighbor, close your mouth
and don't come to tell me
that he's going to marry someone else.

The exact five years
loving her hour after hour
are a rope around my neck
that chokes my throat.

With burning coals,
may they burn that mouth
of the one who swore so many times
that he was for my person.

The five, five streetlights went out,
so no one sees me crying alone.
Oh, what a little sorrow, mother! mother, what a pain!
The little green path, full of grass,
full of grass.