Stand up.
Look at the mountain,
source
of the wind, the sun, the water.
You who change
the course of rivers,
who with the seed sows
the flight of your soul.

Stand up,
look at your hands,
take your brother's hand
so you can grow,
we'll go together,
united by blood,
the future
can begin today.

Deliver us from the master who keeps us
in misery.
thy will be done, at last,
on earth.

Blow like the wind blows
the wild flower of the mountain pass.
clean the barrel of my gun
like fire.

Thy will be done, at last,
on earth,
give us the strength and courage
to struggle.

Blow like the wind blows
the wild flower of the mountain pass.
clean the barrel of my gun
like fire.

Stand up,
look at your hands,
take your brother's hand
so you can grow.
We'll go together,
united by blood,
now and in the hour
of our death. Amen.
Amen.
Amen.


Translated by Joan Jara and Adrian Mitchell

Like lots of other children
I was taught to sweat,
I didn't know what school was,
didn't know how to play.
They dragged me out of bed
early every morning,
and alongside my Dad
I grew up as a worker.

Because I was pretty handy
I got by as a carpenter,
a plasterer and a brick-layer,
a plumber and a mechanic.
Hey! It would have been useful
to have had some sort of schooling.
That would have been one more thing to use –
Man as a creator.

I can build you a house,
I can lay down a road,
make wine that tastes good
and keep a factory smoking,
I go down to the depths of the earth
I conquer all the peaks,
I walk among the stars
and carve furrows all over the earth.

I learned the language
of my masters and bosses,
they killed me over and over
for daring to raise my voice,
but I get up off the ground again
helped by the hands of others.
For now I'm not alone.
Now there are so many of us.


Translated by Joan Jara and Adrian Mitchell

On my way to work
I think of you,
through the streets of the town
I think of you,
when I look at the faces
through steamy windows
not knowing who they are, where they go...
I think of you
my love, I think of you
of you, compañera of my life
and of the future
of the bitter hours and the happiness
of being able to live
working at the beginning of a story
without knowing the end.

When the day's work is over
And the evening comes
Lengthening its shadow
Over the roofs we have made
And returning from our labour
Discussing among friends
Reasoning out things
Of this time and destiny
I think of you
my love, I think of you.
Of you, compañera of my life
and of the future,
of the bitter hours and the happiness
of being able to live,
working at the beginning of a story
without knowing the end.

When I come home
you are there
and we weave our dreams together...
Working at the beginning of a story
without knowing the end.


Translated by Joan Jara