The laurels

Ay, how green the laurels are!
What fiery roses!
If you're thinking of leaving me better
to take away my life
Lift your eyes to look at me
If you are not engaged to be married.

You are a sprig of cotton
That lives in the bud
Ay, what sadness I feel
When you fill yourself with haughtiness
Upon seeing my heart
Entangled with yours!

You are a rose from Castille
That can only be seen in May
I would like to invite you,
But in truth I don't know
If there is someone in the way
Better that I go away.

So goes the farewell
Chinito, to your affections
The Blessed women
Are the ruin of men
And here ends the singing
Of the verses of the laurels