Todo Es de Color

Everyone counts their sorrows
Seeking understanding
Who counts their joys
Does not understand those who suffered

Lord of infinite spaces
You who have peace there in your hands
Pour it out, Lord, I beg you
And teach them to love my brothers

Of what happens in the world
By God, I don't understand anything
The thistle always shouting
And the flower always silent

Let the flower shout
And let the thistle be silent
And anyone who is my enemy
Let them be a brother

Let's go down that path
To see what light we find
That light that is on earth
And that men extinguish

Lord of infinite spaces
You who have peace there in your hands
Pour it out, Lord, I beg you
And teach them to love my brothers

And teach them the beauty of life
And to be comfort in all wounds
And to love with pure love all the earth
And always seek peace, Lord, and hate war

And in that garden four men have entered
To take without permission
And without compassion they have taken
The rose that I wanted
And then they have despised it

And who can prove to me
That Christ was not a gypsy
Nor that he knew how to sing
The flowers from your balcony
The flowers from your balcony
Cry to see you, I know