El Hijo Del Ferroviario

All my life I've seen trains go by
I can remember playing on the platforms
That's why I never had any toy ones
The ones in front were enough
Trains like moles in the night
Filled dreams with nameless destinations
And in the early morning, the tracks squeaked
As the freight train dragged along
Sunday trains that take you to the beach
Under the umbrella, chorizo and empanada
Trains of those leaving, trains of those returning
Wooden trains on a green meadow
Leaving a trail behind as they pass
Like soft cotton lambs
That went to the sky seeking the embrace
Of passing clouds ignoring them
The train that one night took me so far
Was so fast it was called express
Trains sometimes have no mystery
They smell of food and old sweat
Trains of failures and goodbyes
That one early morning took Delfina away
Still sky without trains to a trackless limbo
With its colorful everything and its little flag
Soldier trains bound for Castilla
All peeking out the windows
Some with glassy eyes
Maybe it was the smoke or the coal dust
Trains with sheep bleating in fear
Pigs grunting, chickens, horses
For those trains, there was never a rush
They stayed for hours on some track
My father, indeed, was a railway worker
Son of the defeated, humiliated by war
And on the train from Oviedo, on all saints' day
I went hand in hand with him to leave a bouquet
At the common grave where his father and my grandfather
Lay buried for being republicans
And on the way back, he read El Jabato
While he stared at a distant point
My father, indeed, was a railway worker
And as a child, I would have liked
To put on the cap, grab the whistle
And with the flag, give the signal for the Talgo to depart
My father, indeed, was a railway worker