América, te hablo de Ernesto

With a long hand
to touch the stars
and a god's pressure in the footprint,
he passed through your waist,
through your backhand and forehand
the healer of narrow men.

Preparing the miracle
to walk on water
and the rest of the dreams
of soul ailments,
an emissary of dawn came
to split the night.

And with a voice so perfect
that doesn't need an ear
he sang a song that sounds like a gunshot.
In all languages the emissary
is coming to see you:
in all languages
there is death.
Even if they bury him deep,
even if they change his face,
even if they speak of hope
and the masquerade shines,
his ghost will come
well portrayed in the bullets.