La Strada ( Las Calles )

The fertile, rich land doesn’t yield anymore
while the sun sets down behind those hills
I get bored, catching glimpses over the canals
fog blurs everything, making the days all the same
if I shake the trees in the wind, the leaves will moan
of the seasons now, I don’t mark the thresholds
but there’s a smell of earth, a distant scent
that brings us back to a more human world
To those streets that break from the asphalt
they keep the same face and the same charm
of the people who never had anything
who fight and don’t feel defeated
Behind the mill, the trash carried by the river
that cuts through the vast plain turned to asphalt
while the past time has left no trace
the icy wind that comes at you lashes your face
the heart of the countryside beats now tired
tired of too many words fed to the pack
but there’s a smell of earth, a distant scent
that brings us back to a more human world
To those streets that break from the asphalt
they keep the same face and the same charm
of the people who never had anything
who fight and don’t feel defeated