Una leyenda

He liked in the summer
to get away from his house
and climb the mountain,
see the morning arrive
the singing of the waterfalls
and the rustle of the reeds,
see the wheat fields grow,
his river full of water.
And sing along the paths
his freedom and hope.
And fall in love with a star
between night and dawn.
He spent winters
in the warmth of a cabin.
And he felt like a poet
among all the poets,
conqueror of affections,
by profession a pilgrim,
his companion destiny
and friend of his friends,
lover when night falls
of the star and the dew.
He was of bohemian life,
with a divided heart,
his soul was the rain
that watered the paths.
Through the mountains his songs were heard,
his prayers.
And even though you left
very early from life,
from your mountain and your river,
your gaze is the dew,
your voice remained in the wind,
your sorrows along the way,
your soul among the mountains,
your tears by the river.
Your freedom and hope
have not left with you.
Your freedom and hope
are walking the paths.
Through the mountains and the rivers
the song of that Indian is heard.