A Las Ventanas

I'm angry at the windows
For always having the caress of the sun
And the hope of facing the new day
Drawing its warmth

Today the valley is clear
Contemplating the city more clearly
And the cold mountain wind watches me
Embracing the glass

Snowy hills that attract the sun
To give shadow its color
Innocent shadows that the night leaves behind
Dissolve in a crucible... to form your song

Springs, noises, verses, and my voice
I have life in three words: homeland, god, you, and me
Although in arithmetic they may be four
In biology, two form one

My hands are cold, and not just
For not having yours
Also the lack of a true song
I hardly make an effort to know
What will happen tomorrow
If with my people all the good is here

The afternoon reaches your window
And the night begins to lie down
It's a perfect frame for a sky
Where freedom flies

Nocturnal singer and his melancholic rhythm, the night goes in search
Cricket that watches over your sleep, like I did years ago
Lyre of leaves and frost piano, the star seems to dance
At the same time that morning begins to illuminate us

I feel the cold hands, and not just
For not having yours
Also the lack of a true song
I hardly make an effort to know
What will happen tomorrow
If with my people all the good is here

I'm angry at your window for having my rain beyond
Beyond just a few drops that drip loneliness
I'm angry at my window when I see it smile
Smiling at the illuminated street and it's because your memory
Still lingers around here... if it still lingers around here...