Letter to my compañero
I know it now,
there’s no resting anymore, compañero.
Temporary distances separate us.
Now my soul is filled by words,
exiled restlessness, hope keeps me here.
Is it tomorrow that I will furiously return
to avenge each death of my people?
Because we will join
the countryside and the city, beloved compañero,
and at last one country will be built
by the working class!
And tomorrow we will work
to unite, organize
the never ending struggle.
And amidst action and slogans
we will meet again,
if the people on the coast and in the mountains,
if the people in the factories and on the roads
have recaptured the banners of struggle.
If in hidden mouths they exchange
revolutionary words of combat.
Has the hunt for the executioner begun,
or does he still ride the crest of the waves?
did you whisper the clandestine password?
Did you overcome the fears of the village?
Did you sow unity like wheat?
Did you hear about the bloodshed?
Did you clearly single out the guilty?
Surely there’s no rock nor sea that can protect them:
no caves, nor refuge will be forgiven.