7º Hijo

Everything was the same as yesterday.
I dreamed and everything was as before.
The people were there, the house was there,
everything was as before.

The eye of the hurricane couldn't see,
apparently didn't know that fire purifies.
The seventh son that is coming,
hungry wolf for joy.

The full moon day is approaching,
I am the first witness of the rarefied air.
The burning earth, the seas open,
and the sun falls as if it were marble.

The cold turns into another cold,
if it comes from oblivion, it is not calmed by warmth.
The seventh son is awakening,
hungry wolf for joy.

I recognized the old path, found lost
the son I had been wanting to return.
I traveled my life in an instant,
saw the horizon fall in a storm.

I am the one without a voice,
I am the one without God,
I am the one not afraid of death itself.

I am the one who can't take it anymore,
I am the one with no more,
just a handful of people with the same fate.

And the music sprouted despite everything,
like a garden growing in the midst of ruins.
Its flower radiated the faint hope
of knowing that nothing usually happens in vain.

The blood that reached the river long ago,
a river that knew how to channel into energy.
The blood of brother and friend, of the warm hand,
the blood of the choir sung by all my people.

I recognized the old path, found lost
the son I had been wanting to return.
I traveled my life in an instant,
saw the horizon fall in a storm.

A photo and a color,
an aroma and a taste,
I can't believe so many true people are missing.
Because without them, I am not me,
because with them, I left,
and I continue wandering inert behind death.
Behind death.