te vi flotando debajo de mi ala, mi galla bonita,
y te dije:
What are you waiting for, pretty bird?
Time is a-lating more, pretty bird.
“Come, let me sport with the tangles of your hair”,
Come, set me forthwith the guardian of your care,
Come, stay with me and always standing near.
I'm just waiting for your word.
I'm just waiting for your word.
Already we can look on a past that is cast.
We can see it beaten like a footpath in the grass.
Too much of us has already slipped away.
Two such as us should already seen the way.
To run around much more would be a loser anyway.
Let's settle into something that'll last.
Let's settle into something that'll last.
Blown on steel wings by the winds of our time
To this land of plain and mountain sublime,
From these firm hills we will build our own,
From these broad fields we'll weave with shuttle and with loom,
And you'll bear a race of children who will call it home,
And we'll look back and say that's fine…
And we'll look back and say that's fine…