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Theirs My War

They were years of hope
and flags of purple,1
the verses of the voiceless,
's yells.
 
Howitzers that steal the sleep
whistled on those nights.
The Earth breaks in two,
and the world looks the other way.
 
cries, the heart bleeds.
Freedom is a sin.
asks for ammunition,
but they don't speak Spanish.
 
And they scream 'they shall not pass'
with an American accent.
And they scream 'they shall not pass'
with an American accent.
 
There a poem by wakes up consciences.
First line of the front, Carmela, don't come back.2
Because the smells like defeat, but don't hang your boots.
Tomorrow I'll come looking for you, may the trumpets sound.
 
The brigadist's passion crossing the map.
will stay forever.
Left to exile in that ditch.
Tomorrow I'll come looking for you, may the trumpets sound.
 
To those who jump borders and push with strength,
to those who push with strength in order to demolish them.
To those who jump borders and push with strength,
thanks to that who made theirs my war.
 
But the night fell and behind the wall by themselves
they saw the monster approaching, the future vanished.
It's said that those who lost saw the Moon crying.
Sons of the defeat, we owe you a favor!
 
The brigadist's passion crossing the map.
will stay forever.
Left to exile in that ditch.
Tomorrow I'll come looking for you, may the trumpets sound.
 
To those who jump borders and push with strength,
to those who push with strength in order to demolish them.
To those who jump borders and push with strength,
thanks to that who made theirs my war.
 
To those who jump borders and push with strength,
to those who push with strength in order to demolish them.
To those who jump borders and push with strength,
thanks to that who made theirs my war.
 
[Spoken]
When the years go by,
and the wounds of war heal.
When the memory of the painful and bleeding days
disappears in a present of freedom, peace and well-being.
When the rancors fade,
speak to your children,
tell them about those men and women of the International Brigades.
 

• 1. The flag of the Spanish Republic (1931-1936) had 3 stripes: red, yellow and purple, in contrast to current (and other) Spanish flags, that were only red and yellow.
• 2. Reference to the song , sung by the Republicans during the Spanish Civil War, although it was written during the Spanish War of Independence.

I'll choose

The path is bad, and nowadays
it's difficult to go straight on.
The only thing I can do is not having secrets.
 
I walk step by step,
that's how tales are written.
And a microphone is not a crime,
it's a way of not saying a word.
 
And now I feel your breath
as a flame.
I see my wound closing in your bed.
Lie to me playing like you're afraid of nothing.
 
You know what?
 
I'll choose, we'll choose to fly, to fly
Instead of sticking our feet, instead of sticking our feet
in vulgarity muds.
 
I'll choose, we'll choose to fly, to fly
Instead of sticking our feet, instead of sticking our feet
in vulgarity muds.
 
I told the path: 'Be calm,
I don't want to see your ending'
I'm going slowly,
I'm going so calmly
that even hours go backwards.
 
There's hurrying people that step on us, but
I want to fly and run away like Icarus.
I'm going to show you the world from up high.
I'm going to give you the art of the birds.
 
Grab my wings, but quickly.
I invite you to a rapacious flight,
romantic flight,
to reconquer what was stolen from us,
to see the sea again without any trash by it.
 
I'll choose, we'll choose to fly, to fly
Instead of sticking our feet, instead of sticking our feet
in vulgarity muds.
 
I'll choose, we'll choose to fly, to fly
Instead of sticking our feet, instead of sticking our feet
in vulgarity muds.
 
Children with masks of adult souls.
Adult souls who hid behind masks.
Dark spirits lurk at night.
Dark spirits, they don't stop.
 
Their army and their walking are ghostly.
We only can wait the sign
and Babylon will burn tonight.
 
The impure ones will burn even more,
they won't even be able to defend themselves with their shields.
Babylon will burn, Babylon will burn tonight.
 
I'll choose, we'll choose to fly, to fly
Instead of sticking our feet, instead of sticking our feet
in vulgarity muds.
 
I'll choose, we'll choose to fly, to fly
Instead of sticking our feet, instead of sticking our feet
in vulgarity muds.
 

To the root

Versions:
I keep crossing rivers
Hiking trought forests
Loving the sun
Every day I keep taking off thorns
from the deep of my heart
At night I light up dreams
to clean with the sacred smoke every memory
 
When I write down your name
in the white sand, with a back of blue
When I look at the sky in the cruel form of a gray cloud
you come into view
On afternoon I'll climb a hill
look at the past
you'll know I haven't forgotten you
 
I keep you inside me, as deep as the root
And it does not matter how much I grow up, you will be here
Even though I hide behind the mountain
Or found a field full of sugar cane
There is no way, my moonlight
That you'll go away.
 
I think that every moment that I survive while I'm walking by
And every second of incertitude
Every moment of my not knowing
Are the exact key to the tissue
I carry beneath my skin
That's the way I protect you
You are here inside (me)
 
I keep you inside me, as deep as the root
And it does not matter how much I grow up, you will be here
Even though I hide behind the mountain
Or found a field full of sugar cane
There is no way, my moonlight
That you'll go away.