Donde termina el arco iris,
en tu alma o en el horizonte?

Where does the rainbow end,
in your soul or on the horizon?

I awoke and at times birds fled and migrated /that had been sleeping in your soul.

You can cut all the flowers but you cannot keep Spring from coming.

Here I came to the very edge
where nothing at all needs saying,
everything is absorbed through weather and the sea,
and the moon swam back,
its rays all silvered,
and time and again the darkness would be broken
by the crash of a wave,
and every day on the balcony of the sea,
wings open, fire is born,
and everything is blue again like morning.

Quiero hacer contigo lo que la primavera hace con los cerezos

We must dream our way.