Sentado Sobre Los Muertos
Enrique Morente
Sitting on the Dead
Let my voice rise to the mountains
Let it come down to earth and thunder
That's what my throat asks
From now and forever
If I came out of the earth
If I was born from a womb
Unfortunate and in poverty
It was only to make me
Nightingale of misfortunes
Echo of bad luck
And sing and repeat
To those who must listen to me
About sorrows, about the poor,
About the earth it refers to
Even if you lack weapons
People of a hundred thousand powers
May your bones not falter
Punish those who harm you
As long as you have fists
Nails, saliva, and you have
Heart, entrails, guts
Manly things and teeth
Kill the one who kills,
Hate the one who hates
The peace of your heart
And the womb of your women
In the veins of the people
From now and forever
Several sips is life
And a single sip is death
