sinuhé

Taking into account the holy innocence,
I'm going to sing to old Baghdad,
where my dreams drank essences
and where in nights of luminescence
as a child I set sail following Sinbad.

Something should bewitch aircraft carriers,
someone should press a button
that recycles shrapnel into reasons
and power into compassion.

How alone Sinuhe is
of love and faith.
How alone Sinuhe is.
How are you doing?

Under the ruins wander tenants
of the legends that were manna.
The unhappy shadow of Aladdin passes by
without a lamp for the way
and without the secret of Ali Baba.

Something should bewitch the missiles,
someone should detonate
the mushroom of civil rights
of the ghosts that populate Baghdad.

How alone Sinuhe is
of love and faith.
How alone Sinuhe is.
How are you doing?

Now the surprising role
of Scheherazade in her bridal bed is scum.
The order to fire was given by a dissident
of culture, flesh, mind,
dream and life that is not virtual.

A thousand and one nights for malice,
a thousand and one nights of intimidation,
a thousand and one nights of fire and greed,
a thousand and one nights without god or forgiveness.

How alone Sinuhe is
of love and faith.
How alone Sinuhe is.
How are you doing?