Yes, my cowboy*, I would very much like to be
The white dust which follows your herd;
Yes, my cowboy, it would be enough
To be the blade of grass which clings to your skin.
That white house, surrounded by flowers,
During your absence, is like a tomb.
If I were dust, I would follow you;
If I were a blade of grass, you would carry me.
I would make myself sweet at the gates of sleep;
I would make myself a spring when the sun burns.
Yes, my cowboy, it would be enough
to be a drop of water on your dry lips.