To the brothers and sisters, to the mothers of the Plaza de
Mayo, to the Association Of Family Members
Of The Disappeared.
To all of us, we are tortured, pigeons
of love, Chilean countries and murderers.
I sang.
Sang of love, with my face soaked, I sang of love
and the boys made me smile.
I sang louder with passion, and dreams, and tears.
I sang the song of the old concrete sheds.
It was filled with hundreds of niches, one over the other.
There is a country in each one.
They're like boys.
They're dead.
Black countries, African and South African, South
American countries.
They all lie there.
With love, I sing pain to the countries.
Thousands of crosses spread across the field, his beloved
sings with her entire being.
She sings love.
Was the torture, the blows that broke us into pieces,
I was able to hear you, but the light was fading.
I looked for you amid the ruins.
I spoke to you.
Your remains looked at me and I embraced you.
Everything ends, nothing remains, but dead, I love you.
And we love each other even though no one understands this.
Yes.
Thousands of crosses filled the field.
I arrived from far away with tons of beer
and me and the urge to piss.
That's how I arrived at the concrete sheds.
From close up, they were vaulted barracks with broken windows,
and they stunk like piss, semen, blood, and snot.
I saw mangled people, men pecked packed
with smallpox and thousands of crosses in the refrigerator.
Oh, yes.
I moved my legs and called all those putrid dudes.
Everything had been erased except those two damn sheds.
A wicked prince tried to grab me from the waist,
but I called up his number, put it on the grass and fled.
Then they blindfolded me.
I saw the Virgin.
I saw Jesus.
I saw my mother skinning me with blows.
I looked for you in the darkness with the little beauties
could see nothing beneath the bandage on your eyes.
I saw the Virgin.
I saw Satan and Mr. K. Everything
was dry in front of the concrete niches.
The Lieutenant said let's go, but I searched and cried
for my boy.
Oh, love.
Damn it, said the Lieutenant.
Were going to bleed a bit.
My girl died.
My boy died.
They all disappeared.
Deserts of love.
Oh love, broken we fell in the fall I cried looking for you.
Blow after blow, but the last ones were not needed.
We dragged ourselves a bit between the fallen bodies
to stay together.
One next to the other, it's not tough, not the solitude,
nothing has happened and my sleep rises and falls as usual.
Like the days, like the night.
All my love is here and it has stayed, stuck to the rocks,
to the sea, and the mountains, stuck to the rocks, the sea,
in the mountains.
And those lines are carved into the museum, the memorial
to the disappeared in Santiago.
All my love is here and has stayed, stuck
to the rocks and mountains.
And when Raúl reads, has a very powerful voice.
So he goes.
Pegado, pegado a las rocas al mar y a las montañas.
So picture that.
I'm not going to do that throughout.