From a ghost
For that jungle round a ghost
With his delirium, with his hope
Way up the mountain
Passion on the shoulder, death on the back.
Men say that nothing is gained
But the truth is that he speaks to me
When the night and the moon embrace
When we know of nothing.
Oh, who can shut up?
Oh, if he was born in the truth.
Of its stature a caudillo is known
Of his figure they have both lied
For the mask only a rag
For the glory thousand disappointments.
How much ghost following his footprint
And how many bullets do you expect?
Smoke tobacco and spit out another dream
From what my people expect
The perfect dictatorship is a dead
Another corpse what we have
To pay the story there is no price
Neither the lack of time nor the good trade.
Let the people dance and write in the air
His vocation to be nobody
I look to the future and discover in the streets
So much ghost of hunger.
Only among all we can make this a better place :)