Hermana

I owed you this waltz and here it is,
as simple as the world of your hours,
a small gift that wants nothing more
but to thank you in this way.
Oh, don't cry, if the waltz took your name
it was at last because you are good and tolerant,
like no one else you understood my pains
and believed in my dreams like no one else.

Sister, sister
what a childhood was left behind
the old house you loved
(the old ranch you loved)
and I never forgot.
(and the long river before it.)
Your hair and mine
promise a gray,
perhaps autumn
is already here.
Sister, sister,
warm and hearty little round:
open your hands and keep
the blue rose of this waltz.

However, there is a charge that burns me
for I never penetrated your concerns
and I was not once the voice that you longed for
if a sorrow enveloped you in its clouds.
But, nevertheless, I never heard your complaints
and always your sleeplessness helped me
in the uncertain hours of waiting
when everything ignited disenchantment.