La Llorona [versión larga] [English translation]

I don’t know what the flowers have, weeping woman,

The flowers in the graveyard

I don’t know what the flowers have, weeping woman,

The flowers in the graveyard

But when the winds sways them, weeping woman,

It looks like they are crying.

But when the winds sways them, weeping woman,

It looks like they are crying.

Poor me, weeping woman; weeping woman, you are my yunca1

Poor me, weeping woman; weeping woman, you are my yunca.

They will make me stop loving you; weeping woman,

But they will never make me forget you.

They will make me stop loving you; weeping woman,

But they will never make me forget you.

To an iron Holy Christ, weeping woman,

I told my sorrows;

To an iron Holy Christ, weeping woman,

I told my sorrows;

What my sorrows would be, weeping woman,

That the Holy Christ wept.

What my sorrows would be, weeping woman,

That the Holy Christ wept.

Poor me, weeping woman; weeping woman in a field of lilies.

Poor me, weeping woman; weeping woman in a field of lilies.

He who doesn’t know about love, weeping woman,

Doesn’t know what martyrdom is.

He who doesn’t know about love, weeping woman,

Doesn’t know what martyrdom is.

Two kisses I carry in my soul, weeping woman,

That never part from me:

Two kisses I carry in my soul, weeping woman,

That never part from me:

My mother’s last one, weeping woman,

And the first I gave to you.

My mother’s last one, weeping woman,

And the first I gave to you.

Poor me, weeping woman; weeping woman, take me to the river.

Poor me, weeping woman; weeping woman, take me to the river.

Cover me with your cape, weeping woman,

Because the cold is killing me.

Cover me with your cape, weeping woman,

Because the cold is killing me.

Everybody calls me the black man, weeping woman,

Black but affectionate.

Everybody calls me the black man, weeping woman,

Black but affectionate.

I am like the green pepper, weeping woman,

Hot but flavorful.

I am like the green pepper, weeping woman,

Hot but flavorful.

Poor me, weeping woman, weeping woman, weeping woman;

Take me to the river, cover me with your cape, weeping woman,

Because the cold is killing me.

If, because I love you, you want me, weeping woman,

You want me to love you more;

If I have already given you my life, weeping woman,

What else do you want? Do you want more?

1. The yunca is a soup made with wheat and hen. It’s very tasty and people eat it to recover their strength. http://lblogdelucy.blogspot.com.es/2009/03/la-famosa-yunca.html

• Artist:Chavela Vargas
• Album:BSO Frida