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Ada Falcón

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Over there on the mountain

Over there on the mountain, my Chinese girl,
Amid the shadowy foliage,
Where the songbirds
Sing their trills of love;
I have a little ranch,
A lark that sings,
And a guitar that cries
For the absence of an angel of love.
I would like to have
A palace and riches,
So that I could give you
What you truly deserve;
But I am so poor,
I offer you just my heart,
And in place of riches,
My Chinese girl, you will have great honor.*
Over there on the mountain, my Chinese girl,
Everything is sweetness and enchantment,
And the purity of the countryside
Fascinates one with its perfume;
The dove moans,
The thrush sings happily,
The lapwing shrieks and flies away,
Chasing the chaja.**
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Old houses

Who lived,
who lived in these houses of yesterday?
Old houses that time has tarnished!
Old patios, damp colors,
with legends of nights of love...
I saw them, silvered by the moon
and bright with the sun's gold...
And today I see them, surrendered, awaiting
the sentence marked by the farewell...
And away they go, without resentment,
like the matador after the bull,
with no one to say goodbye to them!
They go, they go...
The old, beloved houses.
They're left over...
Their lives have ended.
The motor arrived with its roar
to tell them they had to leave!
Cruel time gnaws with its chisel,
and they had to die...
They go, they go...
Carrying their cross on their slopes!
How the shadows drift away
and vanish before the light!
Those patios also knew
love crowned by light.
Their walls kept the faith
and the sacred secrets of two.
Caresses lived there...
The sighs sang with passion!
Where did the kisses of yesterday go?
Where are the words of love?
Where is he, and where is she?
Like everything, they passed, just like these houses,
that will never return!
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envy is felt by the one who suffers,
envy is felt by the one who waits,
seeing that life in its entirety
is nothing but an illusion.
envy is felt by the coward,
envy is felt by the dying man,
the killer and the wounder,
because they will not be pardoned.
bitter and traitorous envy,
envy that screams and sobs;
the kind that causes the most pain
is the envy caused by love.
I was born a good man,
I was born an honorable man,
my head is held high
and has never been bent.
My outstretched arm
always supported my friends
and I shook the hands
of those who were enemies.
The triumph of another
never gave me pain,
nor did I feel bitter
when others gained fortune;
and now, before the cruel
mirror of my past,
I see to what extent
resentment has changed me.*
I have envy in my chest;
envy because another at your side
is happy to be loved
while I bite down on my passion.
envy because of my sleepless nights,
envy like the man who is vanquished
because in life he has never had
any illusions.
envy that condemns me
to live with this pain,
because there is no greater pain
than the envy caused by love.
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Little Bell

Amid the wild elation
We met again,
Mysterious masked one
Of that rowdy carnival.
Where are you, Little Bell,*
My spirited masked friend?
So lovely, so coquettish,
With your laugh that rings like crystal.
Bell, Little Bell,
Laugh, laugh, and don't cry!
Your youthful laughter
Is perfumed with your love.
Bell, Little bell,
Laugh, and don't hold back.
For although I'm not by your side,
I carry you in my heart.
Mysterious masked one,
For keeping my soul in suspense,
You offered me your carnation lips
In recompense.
And when we said goodbye,
Filled with sweet passion,
Your bell drowned out
The sound of our kiss.