Pa amb oli i sal [English translation]

Take a picture of the roof terrace,

for I can see Mars from here

The hanged clothes, my August,

a field of corn spikes and snails

We'll wait for the cold to pass,

and under the tree we'll talk about everything

An elementary biorhythm,

a sea of aerials and animals

Astronauts fly low,

clouds pass by quite casually

With the pockets in our hands

we'll walk the steps of other feet

We'll have bread with oil and salt for breakfast

We'll dress it with a glass of wine

Leaving the city behind,

the afternoon is long, and maybe longer, much longer, is the night

Another place, another time

where we'll talk with other gods

My secret with subtitles,

paths of rice, paths of wheat

We'll wait for the sun to lower,

and under the tree we'll talk about time

An elementary biorhythm,

an artificial piece of life

Astronauts fly low,

clouds pass by quite casually

With the pockets in our hands

we'll walk the steps of other feet

We'll have bread with oil and salt for breakfast

We'll dress it with a glass of wine

Leaving the city behind,

the afternoon is long, and maybe longer, much longer, is the night