When nostalgia gnaws at my heart,
Reminding me with memories from the past
It surrounds my eyes with flashbacks,
Dogging my solitude when darkness attacks
I remember my wide fertile land.
Also its sticky chocolate,
And the sun that turned me tanned,
Laying on the dry green carpet.
There I wave for friends to come.
We whistle with birds when they hum.
We play among dense fields of sugarcane
Shaking a citrus tree to taste its rain
From scorching sun, we always flee,
Panting for an old shadowy tree
We goodbye the sun when it leaves the sky,
Watch it gives the blue curtain a colorful dye.
I remember an old man looks like a gnome.
His stories and quotes inside me are home.
Wrinkles seize his face from chin to forehead,
Granting him veneration and cheerfulness instead
His sonorous voice when he does pun
Kills my ignorance, saying: "Listen, son!
The pure heart that sorrow cleaves
Is more fragile than autumn leaves"
A bitter grief chokes my throat
Because I really do miss the boat
I cry drowning in my salty tears
The wizened man no more will punch my ears
I dry my tears with my sleeve.
In a new sun of optimism, I believe.
Yet the return of the smile tastes sweet.
Still, the muddy land waits for my bare feet.
