My beautiful dove
From the mountains of Urayoán,
The one with grey-winelike plumage,
with the Caribbean deep-blue eyes;
I look on the dirt roads,
the sanctuary of the mountains,
the Savanna of sugarcane fields
And not seeing you there,
Perched on the Orange tree,
Neither in the water pond
Refreshing and crystalline;
My hope did not die
To see you again my dove,
With the Caribbean deep-blue eyes
burning with love.