El Niño Yuntero
Carne de yugo ha nacido
Más humillado que bello
Con el cuello perseguido
Por el yugo para el cuello.
Empieza a vivir y empieza
A morir de punta a punta
Levantando la corteza
De su madre con la yunta.
Contar sus años no sabe
Y ya sabe que el sudor
Es una corona grave
De sal para el labrador.
Me duele este niño hambriento
Como una grandiosa espina
Y su vivir ceniciento
Revuelve mi alma de encina.
Contar sus años no sabe
Y ya sabe que el sudor
Es una corona grave
De sal para el labrador.
Quién salvará a este chiquillo
Menor que un grano de avena,
De dónde saldrá el martillo
Verdugo de esta cadena.
Que salga del corazón
De los hombres jornaleros
Que antes de ser hombres son
Y han sido niños yunteros.
The Young Ox Driver
Born as a yoke of meat
More humiliated than beautiful
With the neck pursued
By the yoke for the neck.
He starts to live and starts
To die from end to end
Lifting the bark
Of his mother with the team.
He doesn't know how to count his years
And already knows that sweat
Is a heavy crown
Of salt for the farmer.
This hungry child hurts me
Like a grandiose thorn
And his ashy life
Stirs my soul of holm oak.
He doesn't know how to count his years
And already knows that sweat
Is a heavy crown
Of salt for the farmer.
Who will save this little boy
Smaller than a grain of oats,
Where will come the hammer
Executioner of this chain.
Let it come from the heart
Of the working men
Who before being men are
And have been young ox drivers.