Prisionero

Free is the wind
That tames the distance,
Down to the valleys
And climbs the mountains.
Free is the water
That plunges and sings,
And the fleeting bird
That arises from seeing
A blue immensity...
 
Free is the colt
That to the wind the mane,
Smells of flowers
That is bush in the meadow.
Free is the condor
Lord of his crest,
I who do not know how to forget
Slave of a pain
I have no freedom...
 
Mad and captive
Loaded with chains,
My dark prison
Kills me within its bars.
I am a prisoner
Of incurable sorrow,
Prisoner to the memory
Of my lost good.
 
Nothing deprives me
From walking where I will,
But I cannot
To free myself from pain.
And in spite of everything
I am a prisoner
Of the memories
That the heart keeps.