San Juan Del Rio

Dove, where do you come from?
I come from San Juan del Rio,
Cover me with your wings,
For I am dying of cold.

If I were paper, I would fly,
If I were ink, I would write,
I would like to be a stamp,
And go in that envelope.

Beneath the sand,
The water runs and we don't see it,
Why did we love each other so much?
And now we hate each other.

Dove, go with violence,
And tell my love to wait,
To suffer and have patience,
For I will return later.

I come from San Juan del Rio,
Climbing up and down hills,
Here they end up singing,
The verses of the dove.