Gota de lluvia

The shadows of the afternoon will come bringing your memory.
The voices of the breeze will say your name like a whisper.
And in the garden of the soul, a flower will be reborn,
and hands will tremble sensing your love.
The sky will be purer, the air fresher, the sun warmer.
The birds of the forest will mimic your voice.
And a procession of laughter and songs will pass
along the white path that will bring me your love.

My faith sought you in the darkness
without knowing why.
My eagerness dreamed of you in solitude
without wanting to dream.
My voice called out to you
and your voice responded to me
and in your voice I found faith
to wait for your love.

But if your love
was only a vision
of my solitude.
If my eagerness for light
led me to dream
of your unreality.
If you will never come
to my happy corner,
when you don't arrive
a thrush will cry
a jasmine will die.

You are in the twilight when the sun falls asleep in the afternoon.
In the song of the bird carried by the wind like a pain.
In the raindrop that a flower collected.
In the trembling of the wing struck by the gale.
That's why if your lips never come with their song,
the most beautiful things will mourn for you, my love.
And a procession of mournful songs will pass
along the white path that waited so long for you.