Mis flores negras [English translation]

Hear under the ruins of my passion

and deep down in this soul that you no longer cheer,

among the dust of dreams and illussions

numbed sprout my black flowers.

They are my pains, buds made

with intense sorrow/grief in my inside,

they bury their roots, like the ferns

on the damp cracks of the mountains.

They are your disdains and your harshness,

they are your perfidious phrases and your coldness,

your vibrant kisses, are burning 1.

on adorned petals, black and cold.

They are the memories of those hours

when, held in my arms, you fell asleep

while I sighted for the dawns of your eyes,

dawns that were not mine.

They are my moans and my reproachs

hidden in this soul that you no longer cheer,

that's why they are as black as the nights

in the frigid poles, my black flowers.

So, keep this sad and weak bunch

that I offer you of those somber flowers,

keep them, don't be afraid, they are spoils

from the garden of my melancholy.