A Quien Doy

To whom do I give
The path traveled
The hugs and the hands
To the one waiting in tears

To whom do I give
The audacity to be free
And to the things that follow me
To tell them that I'm no longer there

To whom do I give
My adventure, my discoveries,
My joy and my failures
And the debts of love
My late-night hope
My repentant selfishness
And having to be older

To whom do I give
This piece of race
That lives, suffers, and sings
To a land pure sun

To whom do I give
The strings of my guitar
So they don't sound sad
At the time of my goodbye

To whom do I give
The memories and illusions
My truths, my resentments
And this soft heart
The wonderful childhood,
The insecurity dressed
With this image of god

To whom do I give,
I will leave simple rumors
Old customs seated
At the table of pain

And I give them
The words and the signs
The value of having lived
The weakness of my reason

And I leave them
The appearance, the disillusionment,
The desire to walk shouting
That he who goes is not dead
Challenging the lie
Revealing his stature,
Arm in arm with the others

I forget
To point out a destination;
And to the one who was on the path
To bend my honesty,
Only human virtue
That kept me awake at night,
Great inheritance perhaps