CoLeGaS
El Barrio
Homies
The wind,
the wind that moves the leaves of a gray autumn
where in a lonely park
on the wood of a bench
they painted a heart
and because of autumn the leaves covered it,
and because of autumn the leaves covered it.
It sneaks indifferently among people without warning
and you hear on the street the word 'solea',
and you hear on the street the word 'solea'
Autumn, the season of melancholy,
the one that inspires you to write,
the one that teaches you to meditate,
the one that calls you to rise
to the routine of the street.
The wind and autumn are such good friends
that in the lonely courtyards
they play with whirlwinds.
The wind and autumn are such good friends
that in the lonely courtyards
they play with whirlwinds.
They carry the word 'freedom' as their flag,
there are no chains not even
any rope to tie them.
They go wherever they want, they pass without knocking,
they go wherever they want, they pass without knocking.
Autumn, the one that invites you home,
the wind has asked for you
playing with the sea
said you should go that way
look for the storm,
said you should go that way
look for the storm.
The wind and autumn are such good friends
that in the lonely courtyards
they play with whirlwinds.
