I am like the traveling river
that walks through life,
that is singing in his step
and kissing the edges,
that is left to chance
and his luck withers him;
I am like the river that passes
and he dies day by day.
And from the earth I am fruit
that grew with the drought,
that matured between fields
of wheat and olives
and that rooted by the summits
where the days die;
I am my fruit from my land
that grew with the drought.
My soul has nostalgia
of a time that has already passed
and the sadness that leaves
the loneliness of goodbye;
sometimes he looks for the night
to hide his pain,
he has sadness and nostalgia
of loneliness and love.
And I'm hugging the wind,
cooing in his complaint,
I'm singing to him softly,
I'm telling you a poem:
that we are wind of step
that we caress the earth,
that the roads remain
and let the poets die.
And I am everyone and nobody,
of sorrows and joys;
I am one of those who are silent
and I am one of those who scream.
Only among all we can make this a better place :)