Under the shelter of the Saint five young ladies
of stone and Franciscan soul are erected; they look up to the sky
and pray messages of history and wind.
Five little tanned nuns among ruins and silence
sing their Canary heritage, at present, withered.
As of a poplar its branches, the waves of the river flow:
its arms flow and spread out whispering:
“I am the canal of this hamlet and I sing news:
the echo of the battle, the call of the bell tower…”
and that rumor moves away, comes back to embrace its children.
Promenade of water and branches,
promenade of branches and water,
promenade among golden leaves
over the Yanaguana river.