Homenaje a Pedro Infante

From beyond the mountain of suffering
Crying comes, the wind is crying
Riding on top of the pain
He comes announcing that Pedro has died
The gentle wind, his eternal friend
That yesterday sang with his songs
Today only has hellish pain
And among his wings, a hundred thousand crepe ribbons

Mariachis who accompanied
My brother Pedro Infante
Join your voice with mine
So I can also sing to him
And if my throat
Were to break sobbing
Keep playing Mariachis,
Don't hesitate
He remains among us
Even though he's gone ahead

In Matzatlán and Gualucho
The blue sky turned red
And the town mourns the loss
Of the herald of its proclamations

The old towers of the chapel
With their lament of old bronze
Mark the sad and simple rhythm
Of his slow procession.