Ni Un Padre Nuestro
No lo sabe mi brazo, ni mi pierna
Ni el hilo de mi voz, ni mi cintura
Ni lo sabe, la Luna que está interna
En mi jardín de amor y desventura
Y yo estoy muerto, sí, como una triste rosa
Abandonao' en la basura
Como una jarra de agua de taberna
Que nadie apeteciera su frescura
Y hoy que es domingo, Señor, he paseao'
Mi cadáver de amor amortajao'
Como un espantapájaros siniestro
La gente, sin asombro, me ha mirao'
Y ninguno el sombrero se ha quitao'
Para rezarme, para rezarme ni un triste padrenuestro
Ni padrenuestro, un padrenuestro
La gente, sin asombro, me ha mirao'
Más ninguno el sombrero se ha quitao'
Para rezarme, para rezarme ni un triste padrenuestro
Ni padrenuestro, un padrenuestro
Not a Single Our Father
My arm doesn't know it, nor my leg
Nor the thread of my voice, nor my waist
Nor does the Moon know it, that is internal
In my garden of love and misfortune
And I am dead, yes, like a sad rose
Abandoned in the trash
Like a pitcher of tavern water
That no one would crave its freshness
And today, being Sunday, Lord, I have walked
My corpse of love shrouded
Like a sinister scarecrow
The people, without astonishment, have looked at me
And none have taken off their hat
To pray for me, not even a sad Our Father
Not Our Father, an Our Father
The people, without astonishment, have looked at me
But none have taken off their hat
To pray for me, not even a sad Our Father
Not Our Father, an Our Father