Viejo Mundo

Old world
The white and black horse
Of day and night
Gallops through

You are the sad palace
Where a hundred princes dreamed of glory
Where a hundred kings dreamed of love
And woke up crying

A little bread
And a little fresh water
The shade of a tree and your eyes
There is no happier sultan than me
Nor a poorer beggar

The world is a grain of dust in space
The science of men, words
The peoples, the animals and the flowers of the seven climates
Are shadows of nothing

I love the lover who moans with happiness
And I despise the hypocrite who prays a prayer