Pueblo Blanco

Hanging from a ravine
My white village sleeps
Under a sky that by dint
Of never seeing the sea
Forgot to cry

Through its alleys of dust and stone
Because the war didn't happen and didn't happen
Only oblivion walks slowly
Bordering the glen
Where no flower grows
Nor a shepherd roams

The sacristan has seen
The priest grow old
The priest has seen the corporal
And the corporal the sexton
And my people afterwards
Saw all three die
And I wonder why people will be born
If to be born or to die is indifferent?

From harvesting to sowing
Life is lived in the tavern
The wives murmur
Their history at the threshold
Of their lime houses
And the girls make bobbin lace
Hiding behind the curtains
That young man who night by night
Forged in his mind
Strong to be their lord
And tender for love

They dream of him and he dreams of going far away from their village
From their village
And the old men dream of dying in peace
And dying for dying's sake they want to die in the Sun
Their mouths open to the heat like lizards
Half hidden behind an esparto hat

Escape tender people that this land is sick
And don't expect tomorrow what it didn't give you yesterday
That there's nothing to do
Take your mule, your mule and your herdsman
And follow the path of the Hebrew people
And look for another Moon
Maybe tomorrow fortune will smile
And if it's your turn to cry it's better in front of the sea

If only I could join a flight of doves
And across the hills leave my village behind
I swear by what I was I'd leave here
But the dead are in captivity
And they won't let us leave the cemetery