I walk in a crowded street
Where the spirit of the Spanish
Hides itself in the pastel walls
Of its colonial facade
I long for the shore
To smell the slave tear sea
Where palm trees bow
To the imperial Sun
And the wind whispers
Of men who sailed at night
While other men faded away
Underneath the shadows
Of the new white dream
I long for the shore
Of the Greater Antillean Sea
Where soursop nectar
Sustains the soil beneath my feet
And when I go to sail
I’ll be greeted by the warmth
Of its colorful bustling streets