Lyrics of La niña de Guatemala - Nacha Guevara

La niña de Guatemala (original)

Quiero a la sombra de un ala
contar este cuento en flor.
La niña de Guatemala,
la que se murió de amor.
Eran de lirios los ramos
y las orlas de reseda
y de jazmin, la enterramos
en una caja de seda.
Ella dio al desmemoriado
una almohadilla de olor.
Él volvió, volvió casado.
Ella se murió de amor.
Iban cargándola en andas
obispos y embajadores,
detrás iba el pueblo en tandas,
todo cargado de flores.
Ella por volverlo a ver
salió a verlo al mirador.
Él volvió con su mujer.
Ella se murió de amor.
Quiero a la sombra de un ala
contar este cuento en flor.
La niña de Guatemala,
la que se murió de amor.
Como de bronce candente
al beso de despedida
era su frente la frente
que más he amado en mi vida.
Se entró de tarde en el río,
la sacó muerta el doctor.
Dicen que murió de frío.
Yo sé que murió de amor.
Allí, en la bóveda helada,
la pusieron en dos bancos.
Besé su mano afilada,
besé sus zapatos blancos.
Callado, al oscurecer,
me llamó el enterrador.
Nunca más he vuelto a ver
a la que murió de amor.
Quiero a la sombra de un ala
contar este cuento en flor.
La niña de Guatemala,
la que se murió de amor.

(translation)

I want in the shadow of a wing
tell this tale in bloom.
The girl from Guatemala,
the one who died of love.
The bouquets were made of lilies
and the borders of reseda
and jasmine, we buried her
in a silk box.
She gave the forgetful
a scent pad.
He came back, he came back married.
She died of love.
They were loading it on andes
bishops and ambassadors,
behind was the town in batches,
all laden with flowers.
She for seeing him again
she went out to see him at the gazebo.
He came back with his wife from him.
She died of love.
I want in the shadow of a wing
tell this tale in bloom.
The girl from Guatemala,
the one who died of love.
Like hot brass
to the goodbye kiss
it was her forehead her forehead
I have loved the most in my life.
She entered the river in the afternoon,
the doctor took her out dead.
They say that she died of cold.
I know that she died of love.
There, in the frozen vault,
They put her on two benches.
I kissed her hand of hers sharp of hers,
I kissed her white shoes.
Silent, at dusk,
the undertaker called me.
I have never seen again
to which she died of love.
I want in the shadow of a wing
tell this tale in bloom.
The girl from Guatemala,
the one who died of love.