The cobblestones would turn to street-wide cashmere carpets
All of the Bibles would be mere booklets or pamphlets
The buildings would all bow down
All faces won't show no frown
Just to warmly welcome the city's legend
Weather would once again break and bend
The street names would translate themselves
All of my books, jumping from the shelves
The beaches would blow wave after wave
All tides would be mighty and brave
Just to accommodate my country's new king
The sun would smile, the moon would sing
The sidewalks would sway to his steps without other choice
All of the valleys would dance to the rhythm of his voice
The scriptures would tear themselves apart
All of the museums would grow a heart
Just so he could call my motherland his very own
Just so he could feel like a king who's coming home

I think, you have to be a **** *******.
**** the rules, of course. Forget the very word.
And run.
And ride.
And hide.
You have to avoid everyone and everything.
Avoid every unfamiliar feeling.
Avoid unfamiliar anything.
And run some more.
You have to curse better than a sailor can.
You have to stop thinking and dreaming about the sea.
You do not belong there, you are not feeling the ocean breeze.
And ride. Keep on riding.
Debunk every myth about you, with a worse news.
Dismiss every drunken enemy, with a bullet or a dime.
Defy the unknown and the unexplored by riding until you fly.
And ride some more.
And when it gets too good, be worse than ever.
And be the worst when you find the best.
And ride and hide and ride.
That's how to be the best cowboy there ever is.
And I am well on my way to be that.
I am well on my way to be just that!

And God forbid I get asked again,
"And what do you bring to the table?"
This time, my answer would be; "nothing!"
I have no worth without doing anyone favors,
I have no price without a pretty face,
I have no tags without brains,
I have no name without money,
I have no face without ***,
I have no place without favors.
I have no fame without sacrifices.
So leave me alone!
I don't even wish to sit at your table.
I don't even let myself dream about it.
Don't ask me no questions!
I don't even want to be in your vicinity.
I don't even want you back in my city.

¿Nadie te lo dijo? Eres bien famoso por aquí.
He derramado tu nombre en las calles y playas,
como vomitar después de una buena fiesta.
He manchado mi ropa y mi cuerpo con mentiras,
y le he contado a desconocidos una historia de amor ficticia.

¿Pero no te lo contaron?
He susurrado a las conchas sobre el sonido de tu voz,
para recordarlo cada vez que me ahogue en el mar.
He cantado en las iglesias sobre el color de tus ojos,
para que te recordaran y te besaran en mi lugar.

¿Pero tú lo recordarías?
Que reescribiría todos los poemas, escrituras y libros,
como limpiar hojas en primavera después del otoño.
Que le escribiría incluso al sol, reiniciaría el verano,
para que su calor te encontrara en cualquier parte del mundo.

¿Pero te das cuenta? Eres una leyenda por aquí.
He elevado tu nombre entre las estrellas y los dioses,
cómo he soñado y escrito sobre ti cada noche.
Has superado a todos los emperadores y reyes,
cómo un mito, cómo construí nuevas islitas con tu nombre.

¿Y finalmente lo entiendes?
Eres el tema de mis poemas, mis verdades, mi leyenda,
aunque no estés aquí ni a mi lado.
Que eres el recipiente de mis prosas, mis penas y playas,
que nunca será borrado por ningún tratado.

Sa gitna ng mga pangungusap at patinig,
sumisirit pa rin ang kislap, sumisitsit pa rin ang iyong tinig.
Sa harap ng mga katinig at mga salitang hiram,
mawala man ang tuldik, at impit, ika'y tutulo pa rin, tila ulan.
At sa likod nitong mga tula at awit ay ang tunay na ibig sabihin,
sana'y maunawaan mo pa rin ang sambit ng aking labi.
At sa ibabaw nitong mga salita, may hindi pa rin maisawika,
nawa'y maintindihan mo pa rin na ikaw ang sinisinta.
Ibabalik ko lahat sa'yo itong mga hiram na salita,
salin mula sa iyong lengguwahe, isasauli ng aking banyagang dila.
Pahintulutan **** ialay sa iyong may dagdag-bawas,
tila makabagong relihiyon, ngunit pangakong hindi ako mag-aaklas.

But what would you need from me?
Somebody who have heard every sound there is to hear,
What made you make the far journey over here?
You, who have walked cities I could only imagine now,
touched every sand, swam in every sea, basked in snow.
You, who have seen faces that I only see in paintings of oil,
laid your eyes on all shades of gold, coal, savored every soil.

But what could you want from me?
Somebody who seems to have everything,
what made you think I have something to offer a king?
You, who have riches that my people can't even dare to dream,
all the grains and flavors, of spices and silver, how they all gleam!
You, who have the finest of things, how life blessed you abundant,
all the valleys, jewels, oceans, rings, what more could you want?

But what else could I give you but ancient wisdom?
I am but an unnamed island, air kisses of breeze and palm trees.
I could not give you anything else but brand new calm and peace.
Poor little me, who only have plentitude of the sweetest of fruits,
the second best I could give you is my loyalty and truth.
Poor little me, I would only hurt and drown you with my tears,
they call me 'best' even from the west, but I only have seas of fears.

And what could an island be worth to a kingdom?
I am an uncouth, unknown maiden in front of imperial princesses.
I could not be your place of politics, you can't even build palaces.
Little old me, who only have endemic flowers of newer colors,
it is best to go your merry way, forget about my warm summers.
Little old me, I would only scare you with my quakes and storms,
don't write to me from home, simply leave me desolate and forlorn.

Ah yes, I stopped asking and annoying the sun;
"what are his summer plans?"
Rains just started rolling, city thunders are singing;
"what about his homecoming?"
I can't even ask about his day
without subtly saying;
"are you almost on your way?!?"
so much for silent praying.
Ah but I don't care now what he does or where he goes,
the clouds are grey and cold, so is my little nose.
Storms are humming, pacific sun is in hiding, but teasing;
"okay, but I am not the one hiding something..."