Los Maestros
Barricada
The Teachers
Let me remember that story that happened a long time ago
Let me remove this burden that covered them with its weight of silence
Let me water them with tears to erase their fear
Let me water them with anger for imagining that
Let me in these written lines return to the teachers
Who gave their lives and blood to give knowledge to the people
Their cries of anguish before the execution were of no use
Church and landowners, masses and state prefer them illiterate
With them, the time occupied by the crucifix and the clergy's morality is in danger
That's why these disordered lines go in the direction of their memory
Let me remember that story that happened a long time ago
What they bury are not bones, but the seeds that are growing
What they bury are not bones, but the seeds that are growing
