That black ribbon highway rolling away from me.
Beyond the Spanish mission that the sun has bleached to bone
The sky is white as marble on the beach at el Malecon.
Where all the big boats used to come
I'd call myself their captain
And dreamed of the day that I'd be gone.
My father, Gumersindo,
In the fields cutting cane.
The cane rose like the ocean
And the ocean smelled of rain.
I'd guide my sister's hand.
My mother's watching over us
As we traced her shadow on the sand.
Her hair was dark as the sea at night
Her face, quiet as the moon.
And we'd fill her skirt with the shells we like
At the beach at el Malecon.
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© 1997 Paul Simon y Derek Walcott (BMI)
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