El Cisne

I am the flower that bends on its stem
Because it suffers holding in its bosom
The hidden poison of a worm
That devours my sad existence

How much sorrow a memory contains
Forgetting the sorrows calms it
Forgetting is the soul's dream
But my soul cannot sleep

Consumed by deep sadness
The pain is reflected on my forehead
How bitter is my present life
How bitter will the future be

I am the swan that sings mournfully
I have awaited the moment of my death
I who have always lived crying
I want at least to die singing