Hispano

Shape of my thoughts, dream of a motherland
Of the terrible Iberian-transatlantic conquest
That gives me the saying, founds me
With the first word until the sighing goodbye
When I leave this world

Singing south of the Rio Bravo with such beautiful intonation
By the Southern Cross it has flown up to the stars
And it's drawing the dream from Macondo to a Plain in Flames
And the Manchego nobleman speaks with the Martin from the pampas

Never fall from my mouth with dishonored words
Of forgetfulness and horror and the discouraged light
Our language will settle its two debts with history
To ask for forgiveness across the seas and keep the memory here

Because they are so different, from Bogota and Rosario
Andalusian, from Montevideo and the Argentine tones
I celebrate the difference and the tension in speech
The lantern of the periphery and the metropolitan light

And they understand my song in Lima, in Santiago and in Caracas
And everyone understands it, from Mexico to Granada
From Madrid to Buenos Aires and from Arequito to Havana

If I must say I love you, my love is in the Spanish language
Word of feeling, resonant language of the soul
Mother and homeland of my children, sound of my hope