Carlos Gardel - Mis flores negras (English translation)
My black flowers
Hear under the ruins of my passion
and deep down in this soul that you no longer cheer,
among the dust of dreams and illussions
numbed sprout my black flowers.
They are my pains, buds made
with intense sorrow/grief in my inside,
they bury their roots, like the ferns
on the damp cracks of the mountains.
They are your disdains and your harshness,
they are your perfidious phrases and your coldness,
your vibrant kisses, are burning 1.
on adorned petals, black and cold.
They are the memories of those hours
when, held in my arms, you fell asleep
while I sighted for the dawns of your eyes,
dawns that were not mine.
They are my moans and my reproachs
hidden in this soul that you no longer cheer,
that's why they are as black as the nights
in the frigid poles, my black flowers.
So, keep this sad and weak bunch
that I offer you of those somber flowers,
keep them, don't be afraid, they are spoils
from the garden of my melancholy.