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The hut is falling down,
where the ungrateful woman lived,
the pure güacal is now left,
all the plaster and lime,
the wind took it away.
The hut is falling down, everything is hanging from the ceiling, no matter how much I want to forget, I arrive and start crying, with no hope that it will come back. The cans and the sills,
they are all unnailed,
there are no flowers or vines,
like before you left,
and you will abandon everything.
You are leaving jacal falling,
and I die with you,
tequila and mezcal,
have not alleviated my pain,
because you are my punishment.
It is falling the hut,
the forks broke,
the beam and the crossbars,
over the years,
everything became moth-eaten.
The cans and the sills ,
they are all unnailed,
there are no flowers or vines,
like before you left,
and you abandoned everything.