When on foreign lands I look sad
to the blue distance of the horizon,
I feel clearly the Olimar 1 that passes
and the breeze brings me smell of mount.
I feel clearly the Olimar that passes
and the breeze brings me smell of mount.
This sky is not the sky of my land,
this moon doesn't shine like that one,
like that one that illuminated my high dreams,
higher than the temblor of the stars.
Like that one that illuminated my high dreams,
higher than the temblor of the stars.
So many loved voices and looks
are no longer in the pub, in the asados,
some others roam without consolation through the world.
Oh, country my heart is crying.
Some others roam without consolation through the world.
Oh, country my heart is crying.
Goodbye mountains, rivers and plains,
goodbye Meco, Pelao, Rubio and Serrano,
bye Bilbao, Manuel and Laucha come with me.
Oh, country my heart is crying.
Bye Bilbao, Manuel and Laucha come with me.
Oh, country my heart is crying.
1. Olimar Grande River