They say that at nights
He simply went through by just crying
They say that he wasn’t eating
It simply didn’t suit him just taking (some food)
They swear that the sky itself
Was vibrating by listening his weeping
How he was suffering for her,
And even when he was dying he was calling at her:
Ay, ay, ay, ay, ay he was singing
Ay, ay, ay, ay, ay he was wailing
Ay, ay, ay, ay, ay he was singing
He was dying from mortal passion.
That a sad dove
Very early in the morning will sing
At the lonely house
Whose small doors are widely open
They swear that this dove
Is no other (thing) than his soul,
That is still waiting
For the unhappy (woman) to return.
Cucurrucucú dove, cucurrucucú don’t cry.
The stones never, dove,
What will they now of loves?
Cucurrucucú, cucurrucucú,
Cucurrucucú, cucurrucucú,
Cucurrucucú, dove, don’t cry anymore