The whistle will come while there is silence,
When the world quiets and breathes calmly.
It arises in the night, in the pause of the day,
Like a faint whisper, a light breeze.
In the deep stillness,
Where the echo rests,
The whistle draws its faint melody,
Tracing its subtle song in the air.
It is in silence that it comes alive,
Where each note blooms in its purity.
The whistle arrives, full of promise,
Filling the void with its fragile music.
Thus, in the peace of the moment,
When everything stops and the soul listens,
The whistle becomes a beacon and guide,
A sign of life in the infinite stillness.
And when the noise returns,
And the calm dissipates,
The memory of the whistle will remain,
An eternal melody in the memory of silence.
(Translated from Spanish)