The warm waters of the river that go down to the south,
And who take my thoughts, my desires and torments, make me free.
Free from you free from suffering,
I breathe happiness and joy, and I did not know that from so much love
One could die too.

As the Mississippi runs, my love dies,
Breathing happiness and joy.
Who would have thought that Louisiana would take me too
To a fantasy island.

Francisco Gouveia

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