If I die, survive me with such pure force
that you awake the fury of the pale and the cold.
From south to south, raise up your indelible eyes,
from sun to sun, sound your guitar’s mouth.
I don’t want them to waver, your laugh nor your steps.
I don’t want it to die, my legacy of laughter.
Don’t call to my breast. I’m gone!
Live in my absence as though in a house.
So grand a house, this absence,
that you’ll pass into it through the walls,
and hang its paintings on the air.
So transparent a house, this absence,
that, lifeless, I’ll yet see you live.
And should you suffer, my love, I’ll die once more.
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AQUÍ la versión española