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For a head of a noble colt
who just at the line weakens when he arrives
and when he returns he seems to say:
Don't forget, brother, you know, there's no need to play.
For a head, a mess of a day
from that flirtatious and mocking woman,
who, smiling, swearing, the love that is lying,
burns all my love in a bonfire.
For a head, all the madness.
Her mouth that kisses, erases the sadness, calms the bitterness.
For a head, if she forgets me
what does it matter to lose my life a thousand times, Why live.
How many disappointments, for a head.
I swore a thousand times, I will not insist again.
But if a glance hurts me as it passes by,
his lips of fire again I want to kiss.
Enough of the races, the timba is over.
I will never see a close finish again!
But if some pingo becomes a permanent fixture on Sunday,
I play the whole game. What am I going to do to him!...