Dance of the end of the century

It was our dance
and we went out to dance it.
The moon lavished our Havana night.
The sea air brought
rhythms of cane, mint leaves, palm tree and salt.

Cuba, emerald green,
well-anchored boat
you know that your people make you even younger
you hold so much beauty
I feel so much nostalgia, if I go far away from you.

And the years go by
and centuries will come
and they will not undo the dance
of this house without walls that still resist.
No-one has been able to break it
someone tells it sugar of time and flight of hope.

All of old Havana
sings its story
a wounded city, where it seems everything is life.
They have never been able to repress it.
And she will tell you that the house is open to you.