Nómadas

We sing for the outcast, the laborer, and the worker
The dreamer, and the revolutionary militant
For the neighborhood, the caregiver, the healthcare worker
For the one who cleans stairs, for the one who climbs scaffolding

For the one who dies in the Mediterranean
And had his skull crushed because he was black and not Ukrainian
For Chirbes and Bolaño and the female philosophers
For the one who transited and was all mockery

For the free and the whores, the migrant and the street vendor
For the one who changes your grandfather's diapers
And for two coins, she gives her all
For the factory worker and the hotel waitress

The one who puts principles before interests
For the unionist who would cut off an arm before selling out
The young people of Alsasua, the six from Zaragoza
For those who gave everything and are now in a grave

For the prose, the dangerous words
For the persecuted and the rapper who eats prison
All those wonderful people
Who yesterday lived in a closet and today celebrate pride

We want beauty, not leftovers
For the whores, the prisoners, the crazy ones
Darling, take me home like John Denver
Pier Paolo and Leslie Feinberg lit the way

We bet strongly on living without fear
Slaves to automatism they wanted us to be
And today we honor our steps with a smile
And we can breathe in front of the mirror

We sing because the shout is not enough
For the migrant and the militant
For the one who puts his body to stop evictions
For those who throw stones at fascist rallies

For the smile of the Palestinian child
Who doesn't give away his lands to the killer
For the Afghan woman, for Cuban dignity
For those who never lose the desire to build a tomorrow

For the metal strikes or Tubacex
That show that by fighting you can win
For the neighborhoods standing up protesting
Who don't want more betting houses on their streets

We sing to feel relief
In a society that pushes you towards suicide
For the defeated and those who are no longer here
Self-care and our mental health

We sing to defeat
Fear and necessity, the clergy and authority
The foolishness of anti-vaxxers
To those who worship the finger and refuse to see the Moon

We will reach utopia
We want rainbows in this somber nation
We want joys, not living on illusions
Let Valtonyc return and let the Bourbons go into exile