En los árboles [English translation]

Sometimes I write letters to not feel myself tied,

to not holding on to complaints that I'd want them abolished

from my life. From my life.

And I paint the envelopes with colors. In the return address I'm an enigma.

I always wait for an answer to feel myself beloved

like little children. Like little children.

Messages that will arrive, papers wrapping a stone.

Love messages that break the crystal of my room.

Who could ingest a precious medicine...,

To make all these dreams come true.

Letters that tell me beautiful things

like you'll come to meow as password in the dawn

under my window. Under my window.

That we run across the field, at the light of the dawn glow.

White sparks over the violent red. And that we make cabins

in the trees. In the trees.