Arbolito Sabanero

Savannah tree... I come to ask, ask
if when she left, little tree,
you saw her pass by, pass by...

Open my dreams to the open loneliness without a cry,
The withered field inhales the sweet flower of dusk.

You, sorrowful in the step, pure sand of the estuary,
dreaming the May breeze, how many sorrows you must have
that you no longer have leaves, savannah tree!

Tree with fine leaves, nests of pure sorrows,
since you no longer have leaves, the sun kisses your thorns.

Godfather without godmothers, I already pass by with my song.
And you in your grave silence, you remain drier and sadder,
savannah tree, you saw her,
you saw her pass by. (repeat)