And this is the song of one summer
among many beautiful summers,
when the dust rises and dances
and the sky is a blue, distant foliage.

And then she came with the breezes
that rose from the streams and its shells,
she that sang the song of the summer,
the song of dry and aromatic herbs
that rustled, when at my side
I felt her like a land that breathes
and like a dream of pollen and stars
that slide lukewarm on the skin and the hands.

Then she came leaping
amid the breezes and the afternoon, together,
and the first thing I saw was her waving dress
in the distance, in the distance against the pure sky.
But from then on I never again had eyes for her dress.
And I heard nothing else, but the song of the summer.

Translation: 2004, Raúl Jaime Gaviria