Canción Del Elegido

Every time a story is told
it speaks of an old man, a child, or oneself,
but my story is difficult:
I won't talk about an ordinary man.
I will tell the story of a being from another world,
of a galaxy animal.
It's a story related
to the path of the Milky Way.
It's a buried story.
It's about a being from nothing.

He was born from a storm
in the sun of a night,
in the penultimate month.
He traveled from planet to planet
looking for drinkable water,
perhaps seeking life
or seeking death
that is never known.
Perhaps seeking silhouettes
or something similar
that was adorable,
or at least lovable,
kissable, kind.

He discovered that the mines
of King Solomon
were in the sky
and not in burning Africa,
as people thought.
But the stones are cold
and he was interested in warmth and joy.
The jewels had no soul,
they were just mirrors, bright colors.
And finally, he descended into war...
excuse me! I meant to say to earth.

He learned the story in a blow,
felt crushed glass in his head
and understood that war
was the peace of the future:
the most terrible is learned immediately
and the beautiful costs us our lives.
The last time I saw him leave
amidst smoke and shrapnel,
happy and naked:
he was killing scoundrels
with his cannon of the future.