There's a song on my mind,
sister,
about my country,
why don't you sleep
so I can write it
I saw your body
carried in chains
and leaking colors,
so I said to them: my body
is over there!
But they blocked the road
to the town center
We were young,
trees were high,
you were prettier than my mother
and my country
Where did they come from
when your folk and mine were the ones
who fenced the almond grove
with toil and thorn!
We think of life
in a hurry
we barely see
anyone grieving another.
Your body was dispossessed
when my mouth
was toying with a fresh honey drop
that had settled
on my muddy hand.
There's a song on my mind,
sister,
about my country,
why don't you sleep
so I can tattoo it on my flesh.