A Mi Padre
Tiene el andar cansado y a sus espaldas
sesenta y tantos años de esperanza.
Tiene una casa,
verdugo de sus manos y sus espaldas.
Cuando amanece el día camina y canta
buscando de la tierra en las entrañas,
el pan caliente,
milagro que realiza cada mañana.
Es aprendiz de todo, maestro en nada
es poeta a su modo, le gusta el alba
y entre sus manos
y entre sus manos
florecen a escondidas algunas llagas.
Tiene cansado el cuerpo, cansada el alma
tiene un interrogante sobre su cara
tiene un camino
tiene un camino
le gusta ser amigo de sus amigos.
Quiso cambiar su vida, dejar la aldea
mas no pasó de ser una quimera,
una quimera,
que se quedo dormida entre la tierra.
Tiene cansado el cuerpo, cansada el alma
luce sobre su pecho camisa blanca
con su mirada
con su mirada
me dice que la vida no vale nada.
To My Father
He walks tired and with sixty-something years behind him
of hope.
He has a house,
executioner of his hands and his back.
When the day breaks, he walks and sings
looking for the earth's depths,
the warm bread,
miracle he performs every morning.
He is an apprentice of everything, master of nothing
he is a poet in his own way, he likes the dawn
and in his hands
and in his hands
some wounds bloom in secret.
His body is tired, his soul is tired
he has a question on his face
he has a path
he has a path
he likes to be a friend to his friends.
He wanted to change his life, leave the village
but it didn't go beyond being a chimera,
a chimera,
that fell asleep in the earth.
His body is tired, his soul is tired
he wears a white shirt on his chest
with his gaze
with his gaze
he tells me that life is worth nothing.
Escrita por: José Luis Perales