When they saw us by the arm,
to cross, talking, the real street,
between the people of town
was the litany with no end:
That he can be her father,
that he's run so long,
that a man like that, of his age,
is not good for husband.
It wa so many things I felt,
that in front of your grill,
from face to eyes,
they heard me say:
(Hook)
For my health I swear you,
that for me you're the first,
and even my blood hurts,
because I love you so.
I don't care about the grey hair,
nor what people say,
what I care is you to know
that I truly love you.
I'm a captive of your mouth,
and so I wrote on my flag:
I'll love you while I'm alive,
mate, while I live,
and even after I die.
Probably you imagine
that because of my age, I'm leaving it,
and in the affection, hill-dweller*,
I consider myself of your same age.
I don't look at other women anymore,
you're the most beautiful of them,
and I take you by my arm,
just as someone takes a rose.
I'm not afraid of your youth,
because, for me,
there's not anyone else in this world,
there's only you.
(Hook)
Composition of Rafael de León - Manuel Quiroga.