Mi vieja viola

Old viola, garufera and vibrator
of the hours of partying and copetín,
of the many serenades to the lora (a female singer)
who today is mistress of my heart and patroness of the bulín,
how abandoned and silent you are!
after you were my singer's dream!
Whoever has heard you sounding papa and melodious
does not say that you are the goddess of my poor heart.

It is that the gola goes away
and fame is just a story
and walking badly and without wind
everything, everything is over...
Today only the memory remains
of past joys,
but there is you, my viola,
until I go away.

How many nights under the arm of the left-handed one
to cover you from the serene I took you
and no matter how well I was in curda,
keeping me in line, I took care of you from other curdas.
If the years of life compose me
and the luck puts me back on track,
I swear to you that I'll change your drones.
I will rejoice of the scabio and I will make you sound again.