My country is an intercourse of banks and waves
In beds of matchmaker rivers,
It is a sway of frivolous palm trees,
A flight of sensual birds, a hug of horizon and sea.
In my country, brooks dance with stones,
Talkative trees caress the sleeping mountains,
Moon and sun kiss each other at dawn,
And waves clap with sly rumor.
Carnations blush when they see bare roses,
A hot drink lights eager wombs,
A sugar cane juice conquers fickle hearts,
A merengue charms the virgin drum,
And its passionate rhythm wakes my desires.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.