‘‘ contra el viento’’

With my face against the wind, a sower of illusions, I have sought a thousand reasons to be able to continue. Because I think differently, I don't know if it is my sin to have been born free and to want to continue free. And I felt love barefoot, to walk on the earth. He who eats from another's hand, the poem of other songs will never know what is good. The country opened its lips. Lying on the earth and looking at the stars, the sounds of the earth how many times have I heard them say: What color will the wind have? Who painted the light of time? Because I shouted what I feel, they knew how to persecute me. Because I suddenly felt the pain that exists in my people, I made their hope my own, the reason to live. Because I think differently, I don't know if it is my sin to have been born free and to want to continue free. Lying on the earth and looking at the stars, the sounds of the earth how many times have I heard them say: What color will the wind have? Who painted the light of time? Because I shouted what I feel, they knew how to persecute me. Because I suddenly felt the pain that exists in my people, I made their hope my own, the reason to live. Because I think differently, I don't know if it is my sin to have been born free and to want to remain free.

Con la cara contra el viento, sembrador de ilusiones,
he buscado mil razones para poder seguir.
Porque pienso diferente yo no sé si es mi pecado
el haber nacido libre y libre querer seguir.
Y sentí el amor descalzo, caminar sobre la tierra.
El que coma de otra mano, el poema de otros cantos
nunca sabrá lo que es bueno. El país abrió los labios.
Sobre la tierra acostado y mirando las estrellas,
los sonidos de la tierra cuántas veces oí decir:
¿Qué color tendrá el viento?, ¿quién pintó la luz del tiempo?
Porque grité lo que siento me supieron perseguir.
Porque sentí de repente el dolor que hay en mi gente,
hice mía su esperanza la razón para vivir.
Porque pienso diferente yo no sé si es mi pecado
el haber nacido libre y libre querer seguir.
Sobre la tierra acostado y mirando las estrellas,
los sonidos de la tierra cuántas veces oí decir:
¿Qué color tendrá el viento?, ¿quién pintó la luz del tiempo
Porque grité lo que siento me supieron perseguir.
Porque sentí de repente el dolor que hay en mi gente,
hice mía su esperanza, la razón para vivir.
Porque pienso diferente yo no sé si es mi pecado
el haber nacido libre y libre querer seguir.