Cançó De Matinada

The trembling and sad voice of a bell tower has to tell us. A ray of light and the cry of a crow that has woken up hungry and searches among wheat and barley for anything to fill its belly. Or maybe a rooster that sings in the yard: the night is dead and it's getting light. While I sing, at dawn, the town is still asleep. The leaves of the neighboring alfalfa field have awakened wet. They shake off the dew while dawn arrives and the sun warms them until they are cut down with a scythe. They raise their wet and fresh heads. To fall to the ground there is too much time. Inside the town a child is already crying and outside the goods are running. With the sack and the cask on his back, with a stick in hand, the shepherd and his sheepdog leave for other pastures. Breaking rivers and huts in the mountains they want to return. With the dawn, one must leave early: the road they have to travel is very long. Towards the town comes the farmer, the bag empty and the cart full of red tomatoes and vegetables picked from his garden. The mule sweats and the cart creaks, and the man closes his eyes and dreams while the sun rises from a bed of holm oaks, dazzling the old ladies who, sleepy, walk towards the church. And now I sing at dawn, the town is still asleep.