El Niño y El Canario
Era el canario un primor
Y era su dueño un pequeño
Que velaba con empeño
Los cuidados del cantor
Era un hermoso ejemplar
De color anaranjado
Era un preso resignado
A la misión de cantar
Era muy lindo escuchar
De su garganta sonora
La nota grave que llora
En un constante rolar
Daba a entender su trinar
Que alguna angustia sufría
Porque falto de alegría
Era su canto un penar
Un cierto día su dueño
El candoroso pequeño
Que se solía extasiar
Al observar los fulgores
De tan divinos colores
Y tan bonito cantar
Llevó hasta el cielo su queja
Porque vencido a la reja
De la pequeña prisión
En nostálgica agonía
Su fiel canario moría
Sin comprender la razón
Preso de un hondo quebranto
Sumió sus ojos en llanto
Y con infante emoción
Quitó de la jaula al preso
Posó con su boca un beso
Sobre el rosado plumaje
Y en su mano temblorosa
Quedó dormida una rosa
Que tenía corazón
La cajita de madera
La cajita de madera
La misma que contuviera
Lapicitos de color
Fue la morada postrera
De aquel que en su vida fuera
De aquel que en su vida fuera
Su más preciado valor
Y en el jardín de su casa
Y en el jardín de su casa
A distancia muy escasa
De un legendario nogal
Lloró la pobre criatura
Lloró la pobre criatura
Al cavar la sepultura
De su canario cantor
The Boy and The Canary
The canary was a beauty
And its owner was a little boy
Who diligently watched over
The singer's care
It was a beautiful specimen
With an orange color
It was a resigned prisoner
To the mission of singing
It was very nice to hear
From its melodious throat
The deep note that cries
In a constant rolling
Its singing indicated
That it was suffering some anguish
Because lacking joy
Its song was a sorrow
One day its owner
The tender little boy
Who used to be ecstatic
Observing the brilliance
Of such divine colors
And such a beautiful singing
Took his complaint to the sky
Because defeated by the bars
Of the small prison
In nostalgic agony
His faithful canary was dying
Without understanding the reason
Prisoner of deep sorrow
He drowned his eyes in tears
And with childlike emotion
He took the prisoner out of the cage
Planted a kiss with his mouth
On the pink plumage
And in his trembling hand
A rose fell asleep
That had a heart
The wooden box
The wooden box
The same one that contained
Colorful little pencils
Was the final abode
Of the one who in his life had been
Of the one who in his life had been
His most precious value
And in the garden of his house
And in the garden of his house
At a very short distance
From a legendary walnut tree
The poor creature cried
The poor creature cried
While digging the grave
Of his singing canary