I'm sorry to see you today, Flores neighborhood,
corner of my games, cordial and happy.
Dear memories, love story
evoking a romance of endless bliss.
I was born in that neighborhood; I grew up on its sidewalks,
one day I took flight, dreaming of success;
and today, poor and defeated, loaded with sorrows,
I have returned tired from so much wandering ...
Happiness and fortune eluded me,
shreds of scattered reveries I left;
and amid so many misfortunes and sorrows,
the blessed desire to see you again ...
In strange lands, I fought with luck, straightforward I did not know how to lie,
and seeing me overwhelmed, poorer than ever,
I returned to my love looking to die.
I'd better never think about the return
if when I saw you again, I would start to cry.
My lips said, trembling in prayer:
This is not my neighborhood; it changed places! ...
I'd rather stay, die on the trail,
if I have lost everything, neighborhood, and home ...
Another wound does not make a dent,
it will be my destiny to roll and roll ...
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