I have never believed that someone hates me,
although they have wanted to kill me.
My other killers hide behind me
that is my mortal enemy.
All types of death queue
At my door waiting for your time.
The instrument is the one who changes face,
but I know there is only one hate.
I know all the words
with which I sing to life
they come with death too.
I know that the past hates me
and that will not forgive me
my love with the future.
That's why he sends executioners
with all the uniforms
my killer is the past,
although with a man's hand.
Whenever a man hits another man
It is not the body that you want to give it to.
In that fist goes the hatred of an idea
that assaults him, that makes him change.
When the quiet feels moved
everything changes direction
And to the extent that everything accelerates
keeps changing the sphere.
I will always have an enemy
with the wrinkled visage
and more tired than me.
Those who along his shadow
they want to cut the measure
of all revolution.
And it was already said that it is bigger,
than the greatest of us.
And it was already said that it is done for others.
Only among all we can make this a better place :)