Some time ago
A little boy asked me
About the meaning
Of the word homeland
He surprised me with his question
And with my soul in my throat
I told him like this
Flower of the neighborhood, little brother
Homeland, there are so many beautiful things
Like that old tree
That speaks to us and renews
Like the affection you keep
After the grandmother died
Homeland is so many beautiful things
They are the walls of a neighborhood
Of her brown hope
It is what she carries in her soul
Like the one when he walks away
They are the martyrs who scream
Flag, flag flag flag
Do not memorize lessons
Dictatorships or confinements
You do not define the country
The that suppress a people
The homeland is a feeling
In the eyes of an old man
They are the entire spring
Breeze of a new little sister
I answer you, little brother
Homeland is so many beautiful things

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