Ofrenda Del Payador

I am the distant cloud
that with the somber night
flees when the morning comes
I am the light that in your window,
filters the moon in bunches,
the one who as a child in the cradle
opened her smiling eyes
the one who draws in your dreams
in the deserted lagoon.

I am the vague music
that listens in the confines
to that harmony that struggles
with silence and fades away
the warm air that flatters
with its incessant flying
that makes the ombú tree sway,
and the gallant cup,
and the sorrowful guitar...
that tends to make you cry.