The seed, which was planted years ago, did not die.
It hibernated, took a long deep breath every week,
Lived like a pearl, kept the secret, and never got weak,
Like the feather that the wind had buried with the pie.
A quarter of century later, after the deluge, the seed
Is now growing leaves, inhaling love like Romeo,
Like Rodrigue, and all the plots associated with el Cid.
It is dreaming, by erasing the thought of dying long ago.
In the depth of the cave lie loneliness, lust and hope.
A dream is more than praying for a miracle to happen.
Love, when I saw you, I dreamt; I found myself in heaven.
No, nobody smoked there. The sky was blue: no drugs, no dope,
No buzz and no alcohol. Joy and happy times are here to stay.
In the depth of the cave, our love is resting. It won't fly away.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem