At the skirt of Mine Boriquen

The glaring sun shines as the  cool wind passes by, spring settles in but quickly goes by leaving her gifts. As I say good bye to lady spring, Summer rushes in and approaches me. She wraps her arm around me holding me in her grasps. Though embracing,she knows I'm not hers. As my mistress is not summer or any months but the land with air, that carrases the gentle palms by the beach. The Land that tucks in her children in the green grass beds. The place which in her mountain bosom you can hear the cry of un Jibarrito crying out to his Puerto Rico. The Place that when you leave you, your heart stays in her Sandy beaches waiting for the day that you would come back and rest in. The Land which her children call Borinquen.