Guerrilla
            to the oppressed and to those who
            suffer with them and fight at their side 

the stars are fading away
how deep is your countenance
our heart is a wasteland
the walls of the world are collapsing

here the sun is so fresh today
the roads flanked by cypresses
the guerrilla is out there
thousands of suns in his eyes

come, move on
remember stars fade and shine
we march with the Book in our hands
when the trees cover
the face of the guerrilla 


like a night bird
before the pitiless gun
he turns, and turns
and falls in spirals
once more
the honour of the earth is shattered