Terrible times
The heart is touched by pain
asking time rather than fate:
"What has become of my brothers?
What wind has confused them
as it got inside them and dried
all love from them,
and cut all their wings?
A wind that carries hatred
and that kills the blossoming flowers."
This heart cries in sadness.
And I ask time:
What has become of all those
that went together,
soul brothers,
eager for victory?
You have to write in blood
on this scene of life
the beautiful cry of "Freedom"!
You, mother, who is by the door,
scrutinizing with tired eyes
in case your offspring arrives.
The blood has fallen to the ground,
a land that opens
with her innocent heart.
The rogue has managed,
the most tender of the youths
and your child will not return.
