Lyrics and translation Leonardo Favio - El Niño y el Canario

El Niño y el Canario

Era el canario un primor
Y era su dueño un pequeño
Que velaba con empeño
Los cuidados del cantor

Era un hermoso ejemplar
De color anaranjado
Era un preso resignado
A la misión de cantar

Era muy lindo escuchar
De su garganta sonora
La nota grave que llora
En un constante rolar

Daba a entender su trinar
Que alguna angustia sufría
Porque falto de alegría
Era su canto un penar

Un cierto día su dueño
El candoroso pequeño
Que se solía extasiar
Al observar los fulgores
De tan divinos colores
Y tan bonito cantar

Llegó hasta el cielo su queja
Porque he vencido a la reja
De la pequeña prisión
En nostálgica agonía
Su fiel canario, moría
Sin comprender la razón

Preso de un hondo quebranto
Sumió sus ojos en llanto
Y con infante emoción
Quitó de la jaula al preso

Posó con su boca un beso
Sobre el rosado plumaje
Y en su mano temblorosa
Quedó dormida una rosa
Que tenía corazón

La cajita de madera
La cajita de madera
La misma que contuviera
Lapicitos de color

Fué la morada postrera
De aquel que en su vida fuera
De aquel que en su vida fuera
Su más preciado valor

Y en el jardín de su casa
Y en el jardín de su casa
A distancia muy escasa
De un legendario nogal

Lloró la pobre criatura
Lloró la pobre criatura
Al cabar la sepultura
De su canario cantor

The Boy and the Canary

The canary was a beauty
And its owner was a little boy
Who watched with care
The cares of the singer

It was a beautiful specimen
Of orange color
It was a resigned prisoner
To the mission of singing

It was very nice to hear
From his sonorous throat
The low note that weeps
In a constant roll

His singing gave to understand
That he was suffering some anguish
Because lacking in joy
His song was a pain

One day his owner
The innocent little boy
Who used to be in rapture
When observing the brilliance
Of such divine colors
And such beautiful singing

His complaint reached heaven
Because I have overcome the bars
Of the small prison
In nostalgic agony
His faithful canary was dying
Without understanding the reason

Imprisoned by a deep sorrow
He bathed his eyes in tears
And with childish emotion
He removed the prisoner from the cage

He placed a kiss with his mouth
On the rosy plumage
And in his trembling hand
A rose remained asleep
That had a heart

The little wooden box
The little wooden box
The same one that contained
Colored pencils

Was the final abode
Of he who in his life was
Of he who in his life was
His most precious value

And in the garden of his house
And in the garden of his house
At a very short distance
From a legendary walnut tree

The poor creature cried
The poor creature cried
When digging the grave
Of his singing canary