El Forastero

Because I'm not from these lands
they accuse me of being a stranger
as if it were a sin
to live like the wind

Where do the winds come from,
where does the dew come from
that kisses the grasslands
of the plain and the hill

I come from everywhere
through the paths of dreams
like roses in May
jasmines in January.

I give what I have to give
and sometimes I give myself completely
like joy in the valleys
and sorrow in the deserts

I gather stars in the night
and thread them in the shadow
with them I make a necklace
to put around the neck
of a countrywoman who would never
feel me as a stranger

And I walk through all the paths,
those of the valley, those of the hill
and those that are unseen
and walk inside the heart

People see me pass by
and call me a stranger
only my ears hear,
because my soul is far away

It's looking at those worlds
that the blind cannot see
even if they are filled with light
and have beautiful eyes

Wherever I go,
I unravel my dreams,
even if others say,
there goes a stranger.