Misery of mine, come find me to say I'm not alone in a place like this. Far from the land where I was born. Amongst the flowers you've left, amongst the flowers I'll stay. Cruel heavens, is this all that I am to you? Tell me what I have done to be threatened by you? Oh, misery of mine, what fault should I bear? Now I know: my only crime is to be born. Tell me, you jailers: what is this life? Shadow, illusion and yet no more than fiction of myself. Even the rivers that start the spring and hordes of flowers are born. You dream of empires, my friend. Tell me, heavens, if you dare what I am to you. Why am I enclosed in such skin? ¡Mísero de mí! Mírame, triste reflejo en el mar, que resiste, que sufre, a esta vida; agreste realidad. ¿Qué es la vida? Un suspiro, un sueño, y los sueños, sueños son.