Mar Antiguo

I left the steppe
tired and dazed;
fodder for anxiety
there are no other worlds
but there are other eyes,
tranquil waters,
in which to anchor.
Ancient sea, wild mother,
uncertain shelter that cradles the olive grove.
my soul moos, confused and sad;
blue eyes in which to shipwreck.
I've missed you so much
small and fleeting homeland;
that when the cruel hurricane arrives from the north
may the home not be extinguished in your port.
Ancient sea, wild mother,
on your shores I will pray on my knees.
absurd land that made me absurd,
nostalgia of a blue future to anchor in.
Sad and tired, with old friends
wine and song;
as long as there is an olive tree in the olive grove
and a lateen sail in the sea.
Old forgotten gods
keep us free from all evil.
Ancient sea, wild god
of the holm oak and the gray olive grove.