Wait, O faithful dawn, wait, for my heart is still beating despite this wounded world.  I like the color of the dawn, it fills my lungs with the breath of the revolution, so I fade away in the love of freedom. Then the yellow word does not have space on my lips. My eyes I carry on my back, and my hands I make a boat overflowing with returnees.
To you, dawn and my lips melt in the heart of marble time, this is how the dawn reminds me of all warmth.  Oh, the owner of great concern, my voice is petrified in the midst of cities overflowing with stars, whose lights wander over my cheeks like lost ears of grain searching for walkers.
To you, when you are a spacious beach, those hearts are no longer able to travel to it. It is the radiance that removes the boundaries within me, so there is nothing left of me but a voice that transcends freedom and space. Your hands I see them, wiping off my forehead the strange dust of waiting. Raise me beginning to shake hands with rain. So, the earth announces the beginning of the growing season.
To you, every butterfly stretches over the flowers of my memory, like the pearls of a sleepy lake, every smile explodes in the sky and your eyes keep my joy when the dust increases, O ungrateful earth, O ice capitals, wait, wait for victory.