Sphere of great beauty, witness of the times:
foundations, conquests, defeats and alliances.
You changed your face opening the masses,
separating extensions: America and Eurasia.
You tremble as boy, strong winds blow;
and play with the waves that beach in the costs.
Mother Earth, Pachamama, third planet of the system,
hundred of names with which we call you.
Today your children perforate you, black smoke drowns,
the waters are darkened and your forests raze.
I caress the floor, and I believe to offer you some calm;
because you cry, Mother Earth, but they don't see your tears.