Caminando Por La Hierba
Joan Manuel Serrat
Walking Through the Grass
It was a September sunset walking through the grass
where the fairies caught me by surprise for the first time.
Where owls, trees, and bees whispered in my ear
and the grass, playing between my fingers,
undressed my soul with kisses, healed my wounds,
and swept away the dust.
Believe me, believe me, there’s never been so much light
in the darkness of my old puzzle.
Believe me, nothing fills so many cracks
like walking through the grass...
That’s why I often return to the place
where the breeze gets sweeter,
to feel Venus close,
where life is in the air,
where my skin comes alive
and I play hopscotch with seven clouds,
and the grass asks about friends
and the swallows that have flown away
while it tickles me between my heart and my fingers.
Believe me, believe me, there’s never been so much light
in the darkness of my old puzzle.
Believe me, nothing fills so many cracks
like walking through the grass.