Tengo

When I see and touch myself
I, Juan with Nothing just yesterday,
and today Juan with Everything,
and today with everything,
I turn my eyes, I look,
I see and touch myself
and I wonder how it could have been.

I have, let's see,
I have the pleasure of walking through my country,
owner of everything in it,
looking closely at what before
I didn't have or couldn't have.
I can say sugarcane harvest,
I can say mountain,
I can say city,
I can say army,
already mine forever and yours, ours,
and a wide radiance
of lightning, star, flower.

I have, let's see,
I have the pleasure of going
I, peasant, worker, simple people,
I have the pleasure of going
(it's an example)
to a bank and talk to the manager,
not in English,
not in sir,
but calling him comrade as we say in Spanish.

I have, let's see,
that being black
no one can stop me,
at the door of a dancing hall or a bar.
Or in the lobby of a hotel
tell me there's no room,
a tiny room and not a colossal room,
a small room where I can rest.

I have, let's see,
that there's no rural guard
that can grab me and lock me up in a barracks,
nor tear me away and throw me from my land
into the middle of the royal road.
I have that as I have the land I have the sea,
not country,
not jailife,
not tennis and not yacht,
but from beach to beach and from wave to wave,
giant blue open democratic:
in short, the sea.

I have, let's see,
that I have already learned to read,
to count,
I have that I have already learned to write
and to think
and to laugh.
I have that I already have
where to work
and earn
what I have to eat.
I have, let's see,
I have what I had to have.