Escrito En El Trigo

You comb your hair in the morning in front of the mirror,
You shake the wheat from your face,
You sway your step making yourself a wheat field,
You eat the sweet grains
You fight with the birds,
You drink rain from the sky.

One day I put my two hands on your chest,
I bent your neck with a fertile kiss,
I plowed in your belly to sow the child,
And the wheat watched us,
Waving its signals
Its copper mane.

Do you realize that nothing is as dark
As a life without wheat fields?
Do you realize that the world goes blind
If you turn off the rustling wheat?
Do you realize that man is a wheat ear?
That every wheat ear becomes a man?
And that for centuries we fight many
So that no one will ever own
The wheat, bread, and father
That belongs to everyone?

The wheat is ground in your blood,
It transforms into silent flour,
It resolves into the daily bread,
It goes straight to the man
Asleep in your hips
Whom you will give birth to tomorrow.

You see that everything is wheat, my sweet:
Wheat when you look at me and smile,
Wheat when you sob and tear,
Wheat when you sleep,
Wheat when you wake up,
Wheat when you whisper.

For the one who discovered his cave in you,
For the one who will burn among the apples,
For the one who will open a river in your chest,
We sow the luminous seeds;
For him, we invent the wheat fields,
We straighten the murky harvests.
We are guardians of the whole earth
So that no one will ever own
The wheat, bread, and father
That belongs to everyone.