river, river
river of the people, river of my heart
run your hands, illuminated by the light of dawn,
across the rocks that were always in your favour

and with the force of your mysterious roots,
search new valleys across which your fresh drops can race,

while your sisters of haze
fall like conscience on the fertile lands you could not reach

so that one day your green fingers can caress the asfalt of our jungles

because I dream of running my hands across corn leaves on endless fields
and feel the power of our mother between my fingers
to remember who we are