The fog that is laying in the morning
the stones of a track
on a hill
the hawk that will soar up
the first ray that will come
the snow that will melt
running towards the sea
The imprint of a head on the pillow
the slow and uncertain passes
of a baby
the look of serenity
the hand that will be stretched
the joy of whom will wait
for this and that that will come
I sing
hands in my pocket and (I) sing
voice in the party and (I) sing
bandana on my head and (I) sing
I run in the wind and (I) sing
the entire life and (I) sing
the spring and (I) sing
my prayer and (I) sing
for who will listen to me
I want to sing
always sing
The smell of coffee in the kitchen
the house full of morning
and the elevator that doesn't work
the love for my city
the people that will smile
along the street
The branches that intertwine in the sky
an old man that walks all alone
the summer that will eventually pass
the wheat that will mature
the hand that will gather it
for this and that, that will come
I sing
hands in my pocket and (I) sing
voice in the party and (I) sing
bandana on my head and (I) sing
I run in the wind and (I) sing
the entire life and (I) sing
the spring and (I) sing
the last night and I sing
for who will listen to me
I want to sing
always sing
to sing...
I sing
hands in my pocket and (I) sing
voice in the party and (I) sing
bandana on the head and (I) sing
the entire life (I) sing
I run in the wind and (I) sing
I sing
the entire life and (I) sing
I sing
for who will listen to me