Gota de lluvia

The shadows of the afternoon will come bringing your evocation.
The voices of the breeze will say your name like a rumor.
And in the garden of the soul a flower will be reborn,
and hands will tremble at the presentiment of your love.
The sky will be purer, the air fresher, the sun warmer.
The birds of the forest will imitate your voice.
And a procession of laughter and songs will pass by
along the white road that will bring me your love.

My faith sought you in the dark
without knowing why.
My eagerness dreamed of you in solitude
without wanting to dream.
My voice called you
and your voice answered me
and in your voice I found faith
to wait for your love.

But if your love
was only a vision
of my loneliness.
If my eagerness for light
led me to dream
with your unreality.
If you will never come
to my happy corner,
when you don't arrive
a thrush will cry
a jasmine will die.

You are in the twilight when the sun goes to sleep in the afternoon.
In the song of the bird that drags the wind like a pain.
In the raindrop that picked a flower.
In the tremor of the wing that the gale struck.
That is why if your lips never come with its song,
the most beautiful things will mourn you my love.
And a procession of mournful songs will pass by
along the white road that waited so long for you.