Dicen que por las noches 
no más se le iba en puro llorar;
dicen que [bad word] #237;a, 
no más se le iba en puro tomar.
Juran que el mismo cielo 
se estremecía al oír su llanto,
cómo sufrió por ella, 
y hasta en su muerte la fue llamando:
Ay, ay, ay, ay, ay cantaba, 
ay, ay, ay, ay, ay gemía,
Ay, ay, ay, ay, ay cantaba, 
de pasión mortal moría.
Que una paloma triste 
muy de mañana le va a cantar
a la casita sola 
con sus puertitas de par en par;
juran que esa paloma 
no es otra cosa más que su alma,
que todavía espera 
a que regrese la desdichada.
 [bad word] #250; paloma, 
 [bad word] #250; no llores.
Las piedras jamás, paloma, 
¿qué van a saber de amores?
 [bad word] #250;, [bad word] #250;, 
 [bad word] #250;, [bad word] #250;,
 [bad word] #250;, paloma, 
ya no le llores 

***

They say that at nights
He simply went through by just crying
They say that he wasn’t eating
It simply didn’t suit him just taking (some food)
They swear that the sky itself
Was vibrating by listening his weeping
How he was suffering for her,
And even when he was dying he was calling at her:
Ay, ay, ay, ay, ay he was singing
Ay, ay, ay, ay, ay he was wailing
Ay, ay, ay, ay, ay he was singing
He was dying from mortal passion.
That a sad dove
Very early in the morning will sing
At the lonely house
Whose small doors are widely open
They swear that this dove
Is no other (thing) than his soul,
That is still waiting
For the unhappy (woman) to return.
 [bad word] #250; dove, [bad word] #250; don’t cry.
The stones never, dove,
What will they now of loves?
 [bad word] #250;, [bad word] #250;,
 [bad word] #250;, [bad word] #250;,
 [bad word] #250;, dove, don’t cry anymore