Luz De Otoño

Not a single river flows in all of Sobrarbe
as deep as your gaze,
nor do the meadows sway in the wind
like your hips when you walk.
I want no homeland but your arms,
my country fits in them,
from Monte Perdido and the Valley of Ara
and the withered flower of Solana
to the Vio Valley and Navain,
in your sad eyes, with the autumn light,
like in the shards of a broken mirror
reflecting for me
pieces of dreams, faces, and landscapes.
How could I ever forget these valleys
if everything speaks to me of you!...