Chile herido

The wind tells a story
of love, struggle, and agony,
of a people that flourished
taking over the new time.
And the man of each day
working on hope
with the song on his lips
building his future.
The song turned into silence,
thousand hands turned cold,
the night fell violently
over empty gazes.
And the man who walked
among flowery flags
remained looking without seeing
how his land was dying.
The night fell violently,
in Chile a wound bleeds.
The whole earth is offended
to see this wounded people;
millions demand punishment
for these ferocious hyenas.
And Chile, united in struggle
to illuminate the morning
will know how to impose justice
with restrained fists.
And with flags of the poor
the paths will be filled;
the song of hammers
will be reborn with the homeland.
And the fallen comrade
dead by four assassins
will see through the avenues
the oppressed marching
and with flags of the poor
the paths will be filled