La balanguera [English translation]

The mysterious Moira,

Like a spider versed in subtle arts,

Empties her distaff time and time again,

Creating the threads for our lives.

Like one of the Parcae, she is deep in thought

As she weaves tomorrow's fabric:

The Moira spins and spins,

The Moira shall keep spinning.

Like one of the Parcae, she is deep in thought

As she weaves tomorrow's fabric:

The Moira spins and spins,

The Moira shall keep spinning.

Turning her sight back

She looks into the shadows of the past

And finds out where next Spring's

Seed, lies hidden.

She knows that a tree grows taller

The deeper its roots can go:

The Moira spins and spins,

The Moira shall keep spinning.

She knows that a tree grows taller

The deeper its roots can go:

The Moira spins and spins,

The Moira shall keep spinning.

Out of old traditions and brand new hopes

She weaves the flag of tomorrow's youth,

As one who would weave a bridal veil

With gold and silver hairs.

For childhood, which is rising,

For old age, which is fading,

The Moira spins and spins,

The Moira shall keep spinning.

For childhood, which is rising,

For old age, which is fading,

The Moira spins and spins,

The Moira shall keep spinning.