Let's Go!

this voice,
for underneath
a man burns sweetly
for the good of all.


try to be worthy
all day long.
we’ll speak alone
if you wish.

I tell you.

At this stage of our time
after twenty centuries
of Christian word,
man is worse than ever
more evil than ever
less caring than ever.
Even the word love
has been lost
This at least in my country
gentle and sonorous as no other.
And in spite of it all,
there are nations where man
sings a duet with tenderness.
And eats enough.
And drinks enough.
And constructs enough, and more.
And loves, more than enough
if the bind torment appeals to him,
rock and air.

And who made
these nations?

he with his hands
cordial and hard.
And the heat of his head
From where the future
like a rocket in space.
the new man
who looking
on the horizon of his hands,
said one day:
Enough hunger!
Enough misery!
Enough being the toy
Of divine forces that don’t exist
Enough and enough and enough!

I am my own destiny!

From now on
he said,
the centuries will come
to kneel before my image,
and human.

And he began
to climb the mountains of hate,
to conquer
the enormous moles of envy,
to penetrate
the labyrinth jungles
of misery and hunger.
And his soul became light
with the swallows of tenderness.

And all the magnates of the world,
laughing with the pure politicos,
hung over with their lives
of commerce and industry.

Have they stopped laughing today?

Naturally not, biologically not!

He, only he,
the powerful of this country,
the proud of himself,
the solitary and the human,
the man who works,
has won, wins,
and will keep on winning.

Like a comet
he’ll disappear in history
with his forehead in flame
but his fire will continue
lighting the centuries to come.

And if you come now
to the plaza of his acts
to the streets where he risked his life,
you’ll find bread
on everyone’s table,
a roof over everyone’s head,
a kiss on the lips
of everyone,

friendship running in the veins
of all.
And when will this cosmic force
Arrive in my sweet country?
sonorous and olorous
like a petal in the sea?

When we, all of us,
decide to make it arrive!

Or never.

Only in ourselves
the light, the dawn,
or nowhere.
Beneath our night
A sun await us
greater than the universe:
the authentic freedom of man.

But freedom is like wheat.
It must be planted, softly,
and watered every day.
It must be protected
till it multiplies,
fills the mouth of the wind,
the hunger of all,
and becomes invincible.

So, I say,
our evil,
our badness,
our lack of care,
will only be wiped out
with the unity of all
for the good of all.
If we unite
We will win over the fearful
smelling his own death,
enemy, howling already,
definitive and huge.

Now do you understand
this voice?

It is not only mine,
nor yours,
but that of all.
And I know
that many hear it,
they sense it,
they see it,
and cry in hiding
because they recognize
in that voice their own,
the voice already lost
or not yet emerging.
And I know they love
and respect this voice,
because no one can deny
that beneath the voice
a man burns
for the good of all,
even for the good of those
who have not heard it.