La Carreta

He lost what he wanted the most
Because destiny wanted it
Just a few days were missing
To escape to the dew
With his people on pilgrimage

At his door the cart
White with lime has stayed
The oxen on the path
And the frontiles stored
While the sorrow passes by

He walks on the sands
That he dreamed day after day
But he neither sings nor drinks
Nor sees it with joy
Even though he carries no promise

He even left his guitar
The boot hanging empty
And all his illusions
Changed that day
Dew, for bitterness

And he couldn't bear it
When he heard the fireworks
He forgot about what they would say
And behind the banner
Crying, he started walking