Frida Kahlo

The Swallow

Versiot: #1#2

Where can it go
rushed and fatigued
the swallow
passing by
tossed by the wind
looking so lost
with nowhere to hide.

By my bed
I’ll put your nest
until the season passes.
I too, O heaven!
am lost in this place
unable to fly.

Leave, too
my beloved homeland,
that home
that saw my birth.
My life today
is wandering, anguished.
I cannot
return home.

Dearest bird
beloved pilgrim,
my heart
nigh to yours;
tender swallow,
my homeland and cry.