Make the lyre sound for my brother
make him cry his complaints on the strings
accompany my countryman singing
because I am going to tell you my sorrows
This poor bohemian that you look at
br/>troubadour from cantina to cantina
who with tears tells you his questions
and crying tells you about his life
I had many women on my way,
money ran through my hands
but suddenly my destiny changed
and at that moment I found myself abandoned
Money and women are nothing
it doesn't hurt me to lose them
what it does hurt me It hurts my soul
to see my beloved town left behind
In my town I left my parents
and my girlfriend who I adored so much
to run I went around the world
without knowing what awaited me
One rainy afternoon in July
I returned to my happy town
I found my parents in the grave
and I found my girlfriend married
br/>I understood that it was false in life
with money you buy and you pay
I never had sincere love
and that is why my life is bitter
And that is why I call you a countryman
troubadour from cantina to cantina
this is how I plan to spend the years
and by the glass I tell you about my life.