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La otra noche mientras iba caminando como un curda,
tranco a tranco, solo y triste, recorriendo el veredón,
sentí el filo de una pena que en el lado de la "zurda"
se empeñaba traicionera por tajear mi corazón.

Entre harapos lamentables una pobre limosnera
sollozando su desgracia a mi lado se acercó,
y al tirarle unas monedas a la vieja pordiosera
vi que el rostro avergonzado con las manos se tapó.

Vieja Recova, rinconada de su vida
la encontré sola y perdida como una muestra fatal.
La mala suerte le jugó una carta brava,
se le dio vuelta la taba, la vejez la derrotó.
¡Vieja Recova, si vieras cuánto dolor!

(Instrumental)

La mala suerte le jugó una carta brava,
se le dio vuelta la taba, la vejez la derrotó.
¡Vieja Recova, si vieras cuánto dolor!

(Unsung part)

Yo la he visto cuando mozo ir tejiendo fantasías
con sus sueños de alto vuelo y sus noches de champán.
¡Pobrecita! quien pensara los finales de su vida
y en la trágica limosna vergonzante que hoy le dan.

Me alejé, Vieja Recova, de su lado, ¡te imaginas,
de la amiguita de otros tiempos,
qué dolor llegué a sentir!
Lo que ayer fuera grandeza hoy mostraba sólo ruinas,
y unas lágrimas porfiadas no las pude desmentir.

English 

The other night while I was walking like a drunk
step by step, alone and sad, walking on the wide sidewalk
I felt the blade of a sorrow that on the left side
insisted like a traitor on slashing my heart.

Among pitiful rags a poor beggar woman
crying her misfortune came close to my side
and as I threw some coins to the old beggar
I saw that she covered with her hands her ashamed face.

Old Arcade, corner of her life, 
I found her alone and lost like a fatal display.
Bad luck played its wild card,
the Jackstones turned around, age defeated her.
Old Arcade, only if you could see how much pain!

When I was young I saw her weaving fantasies with her high hopes and her nights full of champagne. 

(Instrumental)

Bad luck played its wild card,
the Jackstones turned around, age defeated her.
Old Arcade, only if you could see how much pain!

(Unsung Part)

When I was young I saw her weaving fantasies
with her high hopes and her nights full of champagne.
Poor girl! Who would think of the end of her life
and the tragic shameful handout that they give her today.

I went away, Old Arcade, from her side, can you imagine!
from the old time’s friend,
What a pain I got to feel!
Yesterday’s grandeur is today’s ruins,
and I couldn’t deny some struggling tears.