Ramito de Violetas
Era feliz en su matrimonio
Aunque su marido era el mismo demonio
Tenía el hombre un poco de mal genio
Y ella se quejaba de que nunca fué tierno.
Desde hace ya mas de tres años
Recibe cartas de un extraño...
Cartas llenas de poesía
Que le han devuelto la alegría.
Quién le escribía versos, dime quien era
Quien le mandaba flores por primavera
Quien cada nueve de noviembre
Como siempre sin tarjeta
Le mandaba un ramito de violetas.
Y cada tarde al volver su esposo
Cansado del trabajo va y la mira de reojo
No dice nada porque lo sabe todo
Sabe que es feliz, así de cualquier modo.
Porque él es quien le escribe versos
El es su amante, su amor secreto
Y ella que no sabe nada,
Mira a su marido y luego calla...
Quién le escribía versos, dime quien era
Quien le mandaba flores por primavera
Quien cada nueve de noviembre
Como siempre sin tarjeta
Le mandaba un ramito de violetas.
Bouquet of Violets
She was happy in her marriage
Even though her husband was a real jerk
He had a bit of a temper
And she complained he was never tender.
For over three years now
She’s been getting letters from a stranger...
Letters full of poetry
That have brought her back her glee.
Who was writing her verses, tell me who it was
Who sent her flowers every springtime buzz
Who every ninth of November
As always without a card
Sent her a bouquet of violets.
And every evening when her husband comes home
Tired from work, he glances at her alone
He doesn’t say a thing because he knows it all
He knows she’s happy, no matter how small.
Because he’s the one writing her verses
He’s her lover, her secret passion
And she, who knows nothing,
Looks at her husband and then stays quiet...
Who was writing her verses, tell me who it was
Who sent her flowers every springtime buzz
Who every ninth of November
As always without a card
Sent her a bouquet of violets.