Canto Esclavo

(Song III from 'The American Dream')

(sung by Patricio Manns)

Look at my hands, my face
tanned by so much winter:
in every stone wrinkle
I carry the name of a dead one.

Look at my burnt back
by butcher whips:
in every violet furrow
I keep the scream of a dead one.

Quechua was my father, Maya
was the father of my grandparents:
from Mexico to Arauco
there is a path of dead ones.

Look at my hands, with them
I scratched the bloody gold:
they are American hands,
talons dyed in mourning.

Thousands and thousands of ships
go through the open sea.
The Golden Age rises
with stones of suffering.

I am the son of the sons
of a slave from another time:
maybe also when I grow up
our child will be a slave.

Oh love, how they have stained
our things with blood:
the land that nourishes the bread,
the rose that drowns the star,
the river of the boatmen,
the path of the jungle,
the sad dreams of the Indian,
the peace of the Indian in his land.

* In both 'Patricio Manns in Chile' and 'America, My Bride' it says: tanned by so much winter.
** In the version from the album 'America, My Bride' he sings: from Chiapas to Arauco.
*** In 'America, My Bride': the rose that drowns a star.
**** In both 'Patricio Manns in Chile' and 'America, My Bride': the paths of the jungle.