El País

My country was never poor
Others have impoverished it
With their words of copper
And because of them we learned
To deny what is possible

In my land, the thieves
Wear silk ties
And from plastic mansions
They distribute what is left
Of invisible poverties

In their waterproof souls
The pain of others is obscene
With their unbreakable logic
Everything unjustifiable
They refer it to the heavens

On Sundays they go to mass
And in their newspapers are published
Their hypocritical smiles
Forgiven, they mortgage
What does not belong to them

And they marry among themselves
To create new owners
Who will be breastfed
By some tanned breasts
That are never consulted

In their words of steel
And in their waterproof souls
The one who is poor is responsible
Because they were born without money
The pain of others is obscene

With their plastic smiles
And in their icy Sundays
These owners of my land
Enriched by evil
Mortgage the heavens

The country was never poor
Others have impoverished it
And we are all responsible
For having allowed them
To belch our dreams

Where they buy if you don't sell
The one who sells is defeated
They defeat you if you sell yourself
They defeat us if you sell yourself
The one who sells is defeated