Por La Paredes (Mil Años Hace...)

A thousand years ago the sun passes recognizing in each house the child that has just been born, that the mountain draws soft profiles, of a woman's chest, that the flowers are born discreetly and the beasts and the light as well. A thousand years for our good. In each valley a people and each cove hides different winds. A thousand years, that man and war gave tongue and name to the land and the people who surrendered at their feet, the silver of the Greek olive, the Persian flame of the cypress. And the Muslim lost everything, the house, the dream, and the inheritance in the name of Christianity. Iberians and Romans, Phoenicians and Visigoths, Moors and Christians. In peace may the splendors of courtly love and troubadours rest. Masters of the sea route, there was no fish that dared to transit it without carrying the four bars on its back. Rest in peace, ancestral gray sold by your own king. Martyrs and traitors mourned your fields by the inquisitors. A thousand years ago the sun passes giving birth to that curious race that with its tears makes a honeycomb. And from its blood and defeat, a national holiday. With the faith of the pilgrim who never stopped walking, working, and thinking. Stubborn, seeking the sublime in the everyday. A thousand years ago and a few hours that with working hands a people of alluvium is formed. With Murcian and Almerian blood an exhibition was built. Railway workers, farmers, sweet maids from Aragon, caresses of this heart. And dark tears of the Andalusians. And the dictatorship... Small and bordering homeland, a thousand blows are in your ashes, but a breath of freedom stirs the mountain, the peasant, the sailor, and the city. May ignorance not deny you, may the merchant not traffic with what a people wants to be. They are shouting it whenever they can, they are painting it on the walls...