I’m not asking where you are taking me
Nor your reasons
Nor your destination.
You want to walk? Well, I’ll follow.

I’m carrying morning stars, morning stars in my right hand
And night stars
Night stars in my right.
Tell me, O man of the moonlit night,
Which hand is going to kiss me?

Why have you taken away from me those hands
That caressed my brow
So often and so well?
I would give a necklace of islands
For you to love me again,
A nervous system of horizons.
I would open myself up for you
On your lips every morning.

I am stronger than you
Because I use you as a support,

Lean on me, I am a tower!
Lean on me: I am that palm tree
From your garden that beat time with you.
Throw my bells and palms in the air.
I am your panorama.

(Brocal, 1929)