Chapala

Nets
Nets that are stretched
By the fishermen in the lagoon

Nets that on moonlit nights
Are like lace
Of darkness (in the mangrove)

Nights, moonlit nights in Chapala
Song of fishermen
Sound of the waves that make me sing

Chapala
Are your canoes
Like a procession
Of fantasy

Loaded
With green mangoes
Melons and watermelons

The Sun rises in Ocotlán
The Moon rises in Tizapán
And little by little
The tide
Rises in the lagoon

Chapala
Little corner of love
Where souls
Can speak
To God

The Moon has already hidden
And the lagoon
Has fallen asleep