Sweet and beloved
Bud of my senses,
Awaiting the winds of my solace,
The dew and the rays of my soul.
Has the drought threatened your thriving
The darkness dried up your tears?
The cold has seen your stem shiver,
The silence has filled you with fear.
My streams, my currents,
Once gone astray from the course of your scent,
Never forsook the end of their wandering
-seeking, longing-
In a desperate search for your source.
Sweet and beloved
Bud of my senses
Can you sense my arrival,
Can you hear my voice blow?
Have your petals surrendered
To the fanciful strokes of this storm?
(Bogotá - Reykjavík, 30/07/2000 - 23/05/2001)
Bud of my senses,
Awaiting the winds of my solace,
The dew and the rays of my soul.
Has the drought threatened your thriving
The darkness dried up your tears?
The cold has seen your stem shiver,
The silence has filled you with fear.
My streams, my currents,
Once gone astray from the course of your scent,
Never forsook the end of their wandering
-seeking, longing-
In a desperate search for your source.
Sweet and beloved
Bud of my senses
Can you sense my arrival,
Can you hear my voice blow?
Have your petals surrendered
To the fanciful strokes of this storm?
(Bogotá - Reykjavík, 30/07/2000 - 23/05/2001)