Zabalera Begira

Years go by, always in struggle
more frustrated, more worn out
dim weak light
adorned with the thread of dust
in the belief of flowers
to paint the pain
human arrogance
not being able to silence so easily
there are the trees
blooming again

Looking at the horizon
do not feel far away
the echo of freedom
the echo is there

Owner of oneself
constantly seeking
when will it be achieved
when will it end
nurturing ideas
nurturing a sharp imagination
without Cupid
assaulted
by tightening the ropes
they will not achieve much
the desire to be free
will never die

Looking at the horizon
do not feel far away
the echo of freedom
the echo is always there.