Negrita Martina
Escuche, negrita Martina,
la copla chiquita que el rey va a dejar
y ponga motita en la almohada,
que usté está cansada de tanto esperar.
Su madre está en el arroyo
lavando la ropa de amita Leonor.
Su padre ha vuelto cansado:
no vendió un plumero, le trajo una flor.
Martina, Melchor ya lo sabe:
"Tú no comes rosas; tú precisas pan".
Rey mago de los niños pobres
no te trajo harina, tan sólo canción.
Abrace, negrita Martina,
la copla chiquita que el rey le dejó
y ponga motita en la almohada,
que usté está cansada de tanto esperar.
Negrita Martina
Listen, little black Martina,
the small verse that the king will leave
and put a little speck on the pillow,
because you are tired of waiting so much.
Your mother is at the stream
washing the clothes of Miss Leonor.
Your father has returned tired:
he didn't sell a duster, he brought a flower.
Martina, Melchor already knows:
'You don't eat roses; you need bread.'
Wise king of the poor children
didn't bring you flour, just a song.
Embrace, little black Martina,
the small verse that the king left you
and put a little speck on the pillow,
because you are tired of waiting so much.