Mountain, you love the roots of bare trees,
they heal me with the maturity of their branches in the wind,
as their saltpeter soaks my face.
I see the sky arrive,
in its dark wavy mirror,
to the same coast where I was born.
There I look today
and I say goodbye to the one I love,
I say goodbye to the one who loves us.
I remember your respectful words to the marine horizon,
today and tomorrow,
I will share them with Luna.
You are afternoon's strength
Coming back on the tide and soaking us.
Far above you still get my eyes wet,
and that's good.
Streams run in winter on my Island,
never more than today, they carry my heart,
Their crying is sweet and it's history.
The wealth of age next to Tobacco,
teach men not to suffer
and never spoil the Great Sense in this short life.
To the force that made us born,
we will return in peace.
Nothing will have changed.
And among heaven and earth,
a resistant composition won´t hurt anymore
bleeding under wet leaves.
Great Perfection, you live within us,
you draw the world to your wealth and likeness
as an emanation of the most beautiful crystal.
Temper our hearts
with the cool breeze from our grandparents' breath,
and the bright sun of the presence of those who are not here today.
As a man I take a seat
and meditate on the mountain side to see better,
next to the white eagle, I slowly raise my head to the blue.
