A song about identity, where the author interprets as his identity the city streets where he lives as well as his ancestry.
CHORUS: Identity is the shield with its key, my native fauna and birds, my heritage and my city. Identity is each name of my streets, those ancestral footprints, origin, nationality. Illustrious lady, you now walk in your hours the penal brightness, in your shadow of the fear of the final judgment, kisses will no longer save you, your soul is a loving plagiarism. Give back to art what it took, its temperament, its creed, its stamp in love, It continues creating and making its voice and you remain an imperial being. Give back to art what it took, time, and in date its signature and endorsement, it goes throbbingly gestating love and you remain a marginal being. Identity is earthenware jars and cobblestones, the butterfly a sublime flower, and its natural perfume. Identity is my parish churches, it is my flag in its waves, they are my songs and something more. Illustrious lady, you are not Giraldilla, nor Queen Isabel, you are dodging paths of stamp and paper, kisses will not save you, your soul is a loving plagiarism. Return to art what it stole, its brilliance and mirror, its verbal accent it radiates the dawn and nourishes love, and you, black widow, poison of evil. Return to art what it stole, its temperament, its creed, its stamp of love, It continues creating and making its voice, and you continue being an imperial being. Identity, you my refuge and faith in art must shelter me, I must save you for that eternal love that you give me.
CORO: Identidad
es el escudo con su llave
mi fauna autóctona y las aves,
el patrimonio y mi ciudad.
Identidad
es cada nombre de mis calles,
son esas huellas ancestrales,
origen,
nacionalidad.
Ilustrada señora,
ya camina en sus horas el brillo penal,
en su sombra del miedo del juico final,
ya los besos no van a salvarla,
es un plagio amoroso su alma.
Devuélvale al arte lo que se llevó,
su temple, su credo, su estampa en amar,
Él sigue creando y haciendo su voz
y usted sigue siendo un ser imperial.
Devuélvale al arte lo que se llevó,
el tiempo, y en fecha su firma y aval,
él va palpitante gestando el amor
y usted sigue siendo un ser marginal.
Identidad
son tinajones y adoquines,
la mariposa flor sublime,
y su perfume natural.
Identidad
son mis iglesias parroquiales,
es mi bandera en sus oleajes,
son mis canciones y algo más.
Ilustrada señora,
no es usted Giraldilla, ni Reina Isabel,
va esquivando caminos de cuño y papel
ya los besos no van a salvarla,
es un plagio amoroso su alma.
Devuélvale al arte lo que se llevó
su brillo y espejo, su acento verbal
él irradia el alba y nutre el amor
y usted, viuda negra, veneno del mal.
Devuélvale al arte lo que se llevó,
su temple, su credo, su estampa en amar,
Él sigue creando y haciendo su voz
y usted sigue siendo un ser imperial.
Identidad,
tú mi refugio y fe en el arte
ha de abrigarme,
he de salvarte
por ese eterno amor
que tú me das.