The rain in my country

In my country the rain doesn't know how to rain,
it either rains too much or too little;
if it rains too little there is drought,
if it rains too much there is disaster.
Who will take the rain to school?
Who will tell it how it has to rain?
In my country the rain doesn't know how to rain.

We won't ever go to school again.
Apart from talking to those of your age
you didn't learn anything at school.
Not the names of the trees of your countryside,
not the names of the flowers you saw,
not the names of the birds of your world,
not even your own language.

At school they stole your memory,
they made a lie of the present.
Life stayed outside the door
while young bodies went in.
Oblivion of the lightning, of the thunder,
of the rain and of good weather,
oblivion of the world of work and learning.
"Through the Empire towards God"
from Blanc street in Xàtiva.
Who will make up for my years
of misinformation and forgetfulness?

In my country the rain doesn't know how to rain,
it either rains too much or too little;
if it rains too little there is drought,
if it rains too much there is disaster.
Who will take the rain to school?
Who will tell it how it has to rain?
In my country the rain doesn't know how to rain.