Guevara is Dead
Guevara is dead
Guevara is dead
Latest news, on the radios
In the churches
In the mosques
In the allies
On the roads
And in the cafés and in the bars
Guevara is dead
A chain of conversations and comments opened up
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The militant role model is dead
What a great loss for all men
Died above his cannon, inside the jungles
Impersonating his struggle with his death
And quietly…
No drums, No sounds
No propaganda
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What do you think?
You, with your wealth and your antics
All dressed up and fed
All warmed up
You and your new-age stylish struggle
In the floaters1
What do you think?
You, with your wealth
Guevara is dead
No humming
No propaganda
In his moment of demise
With none of his comrades to bid farewell
His screams ascended to the heavens
Shouting, but who would listen?
He may have hollered with pain
From a sting of fire in his gut
Or smiled
Or shuddered
Or was soused
He may have uttered one last farewell
To the hungered
Maybe it was a testament to those who adopted the cause
To fight on
Images inhibited my mind
With a million different possibilities
It is however without debate
Guevara died the death of men

You, the working, the deprived
Shackled
Feet and head
Salvation, Salvation
You can't be salvaged
Without rifles and bullets
That's the logic of this happy century
The Yankee century
Where the word is fire and steel
and justice is either cowardly or mute
Guevara's screams! You slaves!
In any homeland and in every place
There is no alternative
And no other way
Prepare the armies already
Or tell the world
That's the end.

Translated by:Walaa Quisay