Tropeando Sueños

I have seen him walking
With a wandering step without knowing
As if looking
Perhaps the way to return
He was born in the countryside
He is not only found around here
Everything is nostalgia

A skilled laborer
Made a villager without knowing
He longs for the day
When he sees his hometown again
He goes around working
Only his arms for rent
The meager pay of a day's wage

That's why sometimes when he finds
In some wine that time
He returns from shearing in the group
A swallow peon from yesterday
And his wounded gaze
A tear running
He's stumbling dreams today
Looking for the way back

He trapped foxes as a child
He also learned to fence
In the open field as a boy
He clung to the back of a wild horse
If even aware that in the air
The aroma of that bread is
Return to his mother and see her baking
Return to this bitter loneliness

This wasteland has become a nest
Under some sheets
Among your clothes they will sleep
Your quiet wings
That will fly every night
And in them you will relive

Take this sky
Ride the wind and start walking
There they wait for you
Your horizon and grassland
Return at dawn
To warm up your awakening
And some work to last