The singing of America

I wish I could hear the singing of America.

I wish I could hear his profound rumor

The continental harmony singing through me.

Between the wind and the torpid breath of the day

In the eternal freshness of my land

In the eternal paradise in war

Colombia,

Give me your rich energy

So I may sing the diversity of these lands.

Give me the power of your herbs, the splendid chemistry of your jungle,

Give me the knowledge of my ancestors

The cure of the sick soul

The transformation into animals
In masks of universal powers

Let me glimpse your secret kingdom

The travel of the ancestral shaman to the hidden dimensions of mind.

Let my words resonate with the tone of my old fathers

With the deep fire of your desert void of hours

With your warm beaches, cool mountains and immense rivers

With valleys, jungles, forests.

Let my words have the skin of your different races

The aroma of the world's richest flowers

The laughter and joy of the people

The taste of the exotic fruits

The texture of songs and the plumage of birds.

Listen Colombia, I invoke you

Give me the gift to talk about your magic

About the starry nights that open wild and melodious

Filled with voices that hang between the stars

Full of murmuring waters

The beating of leaves

The thread of crickets and frogs in harmony weaving

A network of mythologies.

Through the red earth let me vibrate with your tone

And look to the first man and woman of this land;

Here they come in a canoe

Beyond the Milky Way they come

In a snake across the river

Leaving a trail of stars remote.

They come with three sacred plants

To dream, to dance, to sing and play his tragic comedy.

Beyond the west side they see a premonition, the shadows of death

As a multitude of ancient beasts making  the time roar. 

Oh let me understand our war, Colombia,

To make a resounding verse

And to transform its noise,

In a flower and a deep fire.

I would like the ancient voices of our mythology to sound  through me

I would like to capture the magical essence of energy

To be the plants,  the fish, the son of the sun

To be the shaman, the visionary, the victim, the sacrificed,

To be the idol and the anthropomorphic god.

And this being all mine, you would make it yours