Un Labrador En La Ciudad

Deserter from the countryside
Exiled Labrador
Lost villager
In the huge city
Anachronistic and sad
You crossed my path
And your manly roughness
Has given me tenderness

I've looked at the calluses
On your rough hands
That pulled up stubble
And wielded the sickle
In love with the land
Where you were brothers
You, the flowers, the air
The seeds and the sun

You have hands for threshing
Hands for cattle
Hands for firewood
Hands for praying
Hands that on the asphalt
You have crucified
With the drill
Of prosperity

Your worn-out jacket
Has big pockets
And there you hide the hands
Of a recent bricklayer
Hands that were the cup
When as a kid
You drank the water
From the childhood stream

Hands that in the tavern
Learned the art
Of dancing with dice
And passing the wine skin
Hands for work
Hands to earn
The round olive
And the warm clod

But today your hands
Are dry as a branch
That autumn strips
In the cold city
The city that blinds you
The city that calls you
The city that destroys
Your warmth and your peace