Botecitos de Papel

With the sun setting, goldening the grass
The pitogüey calls
With the evening light, the islero blooms
My memories pass by, little paper boats

Flocks return
Driving calm pools to the quiet charigué
Red lanterns hang from the ceibo tree
Chamamé essence floats in the islands
They create vines over the water
Leaving fragrant ñanduty in the wild
And in the chiaroscuro of the alisal
Sad silhouette of an old curupí