Romance by Juan de Osuna
Even my soul hurts....
There is no flower like the poppy
nor heart like mine
that is sentenced to death
For having it distributed
At two in the morning
They came looking for me
Three pairs of little black eyes
And I had to give myself up
The hand in the Gospel
I'll put it on even if I die
That I haven't killed anyone
At night on the road
The torments of my black dukes
I don't even send them to them my enemies
I dreamed of cloves and cinnamon
They woke me up to give me punishment
(you are)My blood and my life
(you are)My little clear moon
With how much I loved her
With how much I loved her
She leaves without turning her face
The rose of love
They cut it, poor and rich
And everyone ends up crying
Just like little children
The torments of my black dukes
I don't even send them to my enemies
I dreamed of cloves and cinnamon
br/>They woke me up to give me the punishment
(you are)My blood and my life
(you are)My clear moon
With how much I loved her
She leaves without returning her face
With how much I loved her
She leaves without turning her face

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