El Gorrión

He was neither a monitor in the chattering
nor the most outstanding in flying.
He was just an ordinary sparrow
with the good luck to travel and arrive.

And nest, nest in the Central Committee
and not on some roof in San Miguel.
And it's not to brag,
and even less, to show off
swaggering above the level.

Nest, nest where I already told you,
to repeat it may sound challenging;
besides, the truth, as he no longer nests there,
he's embarrassed that they believe
he's an important sparrow.

All good: his female sparrow and he
with the leftovers of a feast.
He got so fat that, afterwards,
what's the point of brooding.

Always faithful, at dawn
ready to flutter about
like State secrets
never declassified
there was a time he felt.
Oh! vanity, tell me:
Who didn't see you?

He was never a war sparrow,
a test tube bird, nor stellar.
He was just an ordinary sparrow
with the good luck to travel and arrive.

Until his female sparrow and he
decided decisively
to breed chicks in that
such a good environment.

It happened that, time later,
his dreamt descendants,
egocentric, in the way
believe they deserve everything
above their wings,
in front of their eyes,
seeking the highest wire.

Clumsy, lazy, sedentary,
not even starving
would they peck bread from the neighborhood.
Their whole life unreal,
prisoners of an invisible aviary.

And he was not a sparrow for a cage
as freedom was his flag.
As a worthy member of his fauna
he continued as just an ordinary sparrow.

And he left, and he left from where I told you,
to spend what's left to live
among insignificant
and so many good people
who have nowhere to be or go.

And he left, and he left for G street,
where joy and bohemia reign,
at risk every day
- like this melody -
of the sight of a slingshot.

Of the sight of a slingshot.
Stones...