Rosa Marchita

The wind stripped a flower,
A red rose that fell,
Close to me, I picked it up.
I noticed the rose was crying
For you.
A rose that when dying, cries
With me in this cruel suffering,
Heartache, and in my pain,
I remember the moment when you
Left me! Oh!
It's the flower you left me,
When suddenly you left,
You broke my heart.
Withered rose that understands,
That our passion today without you
Dies and that without words
It seems to whisper.
You'll come back, you'll come back, you'll come back
Darling.
And if you return, our sun,
Will shine again and its radiance
Will revive, for the poor flower,
The rose that today in my hands
Is dying, look.
It's the flower you left me...