Lehenbiziko Bala
Los Toreros Muertos
First Bullet
I was born in the countryside
In the old man's house
Facing spring
Red winter behind
Our path is blocked
When everything has passed
Death is in the field
Playing with life
In the chores of the countryside
There was a daughter
And the shots hit her
The heart's doorstep
From her own path
The mother fell
The father couldn't bear
The burden of life
By cutting her own throat
She went to others
In Intxaurrondo
The song of the bull
Down her chin
A stream of blood flows
The uncles told her
Playing the txalaparta
Do you remember
How father used to say
You will die in your own way
Yes
That black curse
That is upon me
From the countryside
To everywhere
Have the paths of life
Closed on me?
I see everything
With sharp eyes
I enter the battlefield
The first bullet
