Palabras

When walking barefoot step by step of wind
When the destroyed city comes from the dust
Let someone sing a stanza to the hands of a dead man
Let someone say a verse to his space of life

It may be that his remains are not distinguished in the city
That the perfection of the stone does not show skin
It may be that his blood does not move a spaceship
It may be that his bones do not serve as towers
It may be that a star shines brighter than his voice

It has happened that tears turn into words
It has happened that a man turns into words
Words, words, words in bulk

When death is unattainable and rare
When a rusty shackle rests in the showcase
Let each child be given a flower and a bullet
Let it be known that the world is sown with lives

It will be known that this coming and going of stones did not stay
That a distant rain went to wet the city
We will fix with nails the windows, the dreams
The pieces of land, the cleanliness and the mud
The guitars, the chairs, the stones and the love

Because it has happened that history turns into words
It has happened that the world turns into words
It has happened that everything turns into words
Words, words, words in bulk

Because it has happened that history turns into words
It has happened that a man turns into words
It has happened that everything turns into words
Words, words, words in bulk