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I'm like the traveling river
Who walks through life
That is singing in its path
And kissing the banks
That is abandoned to luck
And his luck withers him
I'm like the river that passes
And it dies day by day
And from the earth I am fruit
That grew with drought
That matured between fields
Wheat and olive
And it took root by the peaks
Where the days die
I am the fruit of my land
That grew with drought
My soul is nostalgic
Of a time that has passed
And the sadness that leaves
The loneliness of goodbye
Sometimes look for the night
To hide your pain,
You have sadness and nostalgia
Of loneliness and love.
And I'm hugging the wind
Coiling in your complaint,
I'm singing softly
I am telling you a poem:
That we are passing wind
That we caress the earth,
That the roads remain
And their poets die
And I belong to everyone and nobody,
Of sorrows and joys;
I am one of those who keep silent
And I'm one of those who scream.
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