If I have ever given more than what I have
they have given me a few times more than what I give,
I've forgotten the place where I come from
and there may not be the place where I'm going.
I have never gotten used to good manners,
from the heat of the hearth of the home I got bored.
Also in hell it rains on wet,
I know because I've spent more than one night there.
In search of the seven keys of mystery,
seven sad verses for a song,
seven chrysanthemums in the cemetery,
seven black question marks.
False prophets are born in such dark times
and many swallows flee the city,
the murderer knows more about love than the poet
and the sky is increasingly farther from the sea.
The good thing about the years is healing wounds,
The bad thing about kisses is that they create addition;
yesterday he wanted to kill me the woman of my life,
He pulled the trigger ... when he woke up.
With seven thorns of the flower of adultery,
seven roads in front of me;
seven chrysanthemums in the cemetery,
seven times not, seven times yes.
[Chorus]
I fall in love with everything, I settle for nothing;
an aroma, a hug, a piece of bread
and what they give me for the Ballad
of Private Life ... of Fulano de Tal.
Seven chrysanthemums in the cemetery,
seven farewells at a station;
seven chrysanthemums in the cemetery,
seven cardinals in the heart.
Only among all we can make this a better place :)