Salvador, my Salvador
What have I done?
I have only myself to blame.
I should have known the shells would fall
And make a mockery of your name.

How could I trust a man
Who can read the cards like prophecy
And roll the stars like dice
And turn a simple woman's savings
Into a gambler's pack of lies?

Lies that shatter her heart like crystal
And pound her heart like a drum
At the shape in those predictions
Of what you will become.

Listen to the children singing, Salvi
Listen to the poorhouse bells
See they run to bring their supper
To their mouths like little shells

I would wash all the laundry of the ocean.
I would scrub all the poorhouse floors.
To stop the moon in motion
From the fate they said is yours.

How could anyone look into your eyes,
Such pure eyes,
And see a murderer in there?
I see an angel on a hillside
With moonlight in his hair.
I hear the voices in the sea.
They say the stars will be our seeing lights.
Your soul is safe with me.

Our roots are here in Mayagüez
The Santero's words were strong
But he read the fate of someone else.
The prophecy is wrong.

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© 1997 Paul Simon y Derek Walcott (BMI)

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