I si canto trist

And if I sing sadly

I don't love fear, nor do I want it for tomorrow,
I don't want it for today, nor as a memory;
I like the smile
of a child by the sea
and his eyes like a bouquet of bursting illusions.

And if I sing sadly
it's because I can't
erase the fear
from my poor eyes.

I don't love death
nor its icy step,
I don't want it for today, nor as a memory;
I like the beat of that heart that, fighting,
gives life to the death
to which they have condemned it.

And if I sing sadly
it's because I can't
forget the death
of unknown companions.

I don't love my song, because I know that so many mouths, so many cries, telling the truth, have been silenced;
that I love the song
of the people on the street
with the strength of words
rooted in reason.

And if I sing sadly
it's to remember
that it's not like that
for so many years.