Pupila de Águila

A little bird came to perch under my little tree
It was night, I couldn't see its drawing
It lamented that a cage made him a prisoner
That the little feathers, one by one, were plucked
I wanted to heal him with my affection, but the little bird
Kept silent as a tomb until dawn

The clearings of a beautiful day arrive, the wind shook
All the branches of my little tree and there it was revealed
That the little bird had a soul more wounded than mine
And through the cracks bleeding, his life escaped
In his throat, a painful trill cries his heart
I opened my song and in my vihuela, the drone repeated it

He was getting better, he was smiling with my medicine
When one afternoon a letter arrived from his old cage
Black and purple flowers sprouted on my little tree
Because the mail came to take him, my eyes cried
He disappears, leaving me with all his bitterness
He proudly takes my tenderest flower, my sun, and my moon

At the moment of his departure, on my neck, a necklace
He left forgotten, and like Aladdin, I began to rub it
Minutes pass, hours pass, and a whole life
Through the miracle of that jewel, I have seen him return
With more wounds, with more silence, and long claws
His good mornings tear my skin with acidic malice

A bird that arrives without origin and doesn't know where it's going
Is a prisoner in its own flight, will be a bad bird
A malignant bird, sows discord, drinks, stays silent, and leaves
Close your bridge, close your song, throw the key into the sea
A little bird came crying, I wanted to console him
I touched his eyes with my handkerchief, eagle's pupil