Zamba de usted

I don't know if
this zamba can reach You.
Under the stars it goes at night
going through the little town where I left him.

To hear once again
the little tune of your voice,
girl with olive-colored eyes
I'll go after the zamba, rosemary of love.

This zamba is Yours,
I made it with nostalgia of skin and voice,
when You hear it grown in shadow,
remember me a little, as far away as I am.

To your town I will go
I will arrive when the sun dies
to send messages of moon and dream
to see my child, if he didn't forget me.

I am the one who was
following his wandering trail and today
returns to his olive grove lands,
bringing his poor song to little sorrows.