The blood was restless in my veins
And that summer I left for the north
To forget about my routine
And feel liberated at last
See the land bathed in sun
Breathe air from the heights
Fill the bowl of my eyes
With the most fragile of madness
But also the reality showed
Another reflection in her
When she spoke to me about a
Brother to whom she also left her mark
Now What are you going to write
He told an account of my people
Poverty and pain only brought progress
The culture of betrayal and the Indians
In the museums
He invited me to chew his grass
And to bite into the pure truth
He asked me what they were doing there
In the Capital
And I only had words
To define injustice
And what they only aspired to
To the fruit of their own greed
At last I saw the earth bathed ±ada de sol
I breathed air from the heights
And I filled the bowl of my eyes
With the most fragile of madness
Since you are going to write
He told an account of my people
Poverty and pain only brought progress
The culture of betrayal and the Indians
In museums