The Saint wrote herself with sores with sores
Far from the tortured flesh she cried her premonitory vision
I am dreaming that my death is coming
I am dreaming I see my luck, the neighbors come out to greet me
I hug them and they beat very loudly
They hang garlands of lights at night
And they have a party all over the street
I I say goodbye as death takes me Andrés de Giles
I remained sitting at the door of the house
Dreaming the dream that my soul fades away
The crowns roll slowly in the air
The passing flowers shine whiter
The street remains silent in the night
Only glances floating in the street
I say goodbye as death takes me
They surround me and give me good luck

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