El Cobarde

I live in my small town,
the faith, the joy, the peace of home there's a dark-skinned girl
who after work fills me with peace,
there's a hermitage on the mountain
that every afternoon I hear singing
and that stream so clear that waters the fields that are our bread.

The afternoon was a sigh
and those soldiers arrived here, quiet the children and the elderly,
the younger people will have to fight,
the rifle trembles in my hand,
closing my eyes I shoot randomly
a stray bullet that kills any
innocent longing for peace.

FOR WHOM DO I FIGHT IF IN MY SHORT LIFE
THERE IS NO RESENTMENT?
FOR WHOM DO I FIGHT
WHO LIVE LIFE WITH FAITH AND LOVE?
JUAN, YOU MUST BE SILENT,
THIS IS A WAR YOU MUST NOT FORGET
JUAN, TRY TO FORGET
THAT GIRL, THE PEACE OF HOME.

The years of prison arrive,
I am a coward, I don't want to kill,
they say our soldiers
won the war, peace is reborn,
I return to my small town,
people smile and whisper as they pass by,
look at that young coward
who turns his back instead of fighting.

I leave with sorrow the things
I was building, and alone without more,
I live up here on the mountain
dreaming that one day I can return.