MY GUITAR March 23, 2010

by Agustin Barrios Mangoré
 
There is a deep mystery in your sonorous
Garden heart, guitar of mine,
You enjoy suffering, and in your joy
Ecstasies of passion, teardrops of crying.
 
The sweet Moor gave you your heart,
The Iberian gave you your untamed soul
And Virgin America, you might say,
Put in you, because of its love, all the treasure.
 
And so on your supreme strings
That vibrate with an almost human accent
There is, at times, your voice, like a lament.
 
As a sigh from your lonely heart
In whose sad and mystical plan
Sentiment forever flourishes.