Pedro

Come, I will make you a fisher of men
If you persevere, you will be Cephas, Rock
And where the agony of emptiness thrives
You will bear fruit to alleviate hunger
I want to go with you but fear the waters
I fear sinking while you walk
If in the Garden you already sense your wounds
I, James and John on the ground, in sleep
As if it were not enough, here I am to strike
A soldier who brings you a voice of arrest
I am a small sheep, frightened
Bleating denial
I return to life and take your hand
Believe, I will take you where you do not want to go
Peter, do you love me?
Peter, do you love me?
Peter, do you love me?

And you who are the rock
Build my house
In the heart of the brother
Listen, Simon Peter, you will die on the cross
No, I do not deserve this distinction
If after the Master,
Sufferings are trophies
And the hands He touched
The feet He washed
Will point
To the heavens