MY GUITAR

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.