Pájaros de Barro

In case time drags me
To deserted beaches
Today I close already the book
Of the death hours
I make birds out of mud
I make birds out of mud and left them fly

In case time drags me
To deserted beaches
Today I reject the baseness
Of the abandonment and the sorrow
Not one blank page more
I feel the astonishment of a lonely passer-by

In the maps, I get lost
I sail through its pages
Now the wind flows
When the sea was long ago

I no longer go up the hill
That takes me to your house
My dog does not sleep next to your candle
In the vertices of time nested feelings
Today they are mud birds that want to fly

In the valleys, I get lost
I sleep on the roads
Now the wind flows
When the sea was long ago

When I do not have a rowboat, oars or guitar
When the morning nightingale no longer sings
Now the wind flows
When the sea was long ago

In the valleys, I get lost
I sleep on the roads