La Llorona
Fabrizio Cammarata Lyrics

I do not know what the flowers have, weeping, The flowers of the cemetery
I am uncertain why the flowers are weeping in the cemetery

When the wind moves them, weeping, It seems they are crying
As the wind sways them, the flowers look as if they are weeping

Woe to me, weeping; Crying, take me to the river.
Sorrowful and lamenting, I ask to be taken to the river while weeping

Catch me with your rebozo, weeping, Because I′m dying of cold
Comfort me with your rebozo while I weep, For I am dying from the chill

To a saint Christ of iron, weeping, My sorrows I told him
I shared my sorrows with a statue of a crucified Christ made of iron while crying

What would not be my sorrows, weeping? That the holy Christ wept
My sorrows are great, and if even the sacred Christ would weep for them, it would not be enough

They say I do not have a duel, Llorona, Because they do not see me cry,
Some say I am not mourning, Oh weeping woman, Because they do not witness me shed tears

There are dead people who do not make noise, Llorona, And its bigger
The number of dead who suffer silently Oh weeping woman, is greater than those who express their pain

Every time the night comes, weeping, I start thinking and I say:
Each time night falls and I weep, I begin to ponder and utter:

What the bed is for me, weeping, If you do not sleep with me.
What is the purpose of a bed for me while I weep, If it's not to hold you close while we sleep together.