Somos cinco mil

We are five thousand here
in this small part of the city.
We are five thousand.
How many are we in total
in the cities and throughout the country?
Only here,
ten thousand hands that sow
and make the factories work.
How much humanity
with hunger, cold, panic, pain,
moral pressure, terror, and madness.

Six of ours were lost
in the space of the stars.
One dead, one beaten like I never believed
a human being could be beaten.
The other four wanted to rid themselves
of all fears,
one jumping into the void,
another hitting his head against a wall
but all with their gaze fixed on death.
What horror the face of fascism produces!
They carry out their plans with artful precision
without caring about anything.
To them, blood is like medals.
Slaughter is an act of heroism.
Is this the world you created, my God?
For this, your seven days of wonder and work?
In these four walls there is only a number
that does not progress.
That will slowly crave death more.

But suddenly my conscience hits me
and I see this lifeless tide
and I see the pulse of the machines
and the soldiers showing their face of a matron
full of sweetness.
And Mexico, Cuba, and the world?
Let them shout out this ignominy!
We are ten thousand hands
less that do not produce.
How many are we in the whole country?
The blood of our comrade President
hits harder than bombs and bullets.
So our fist will strike again.