We are who we are. Enough of history and stories!
Beyond the dead just got buried as God commands their dead.
do not live in the past, and we wind the memory.
We turbid fresh water that runs over its beginnings.
We
the being grows. We are a river right .
We are fearful of a heart beat unresolved.
We Barbarians, simple. We the Iberian death
still never managed to show pure, whole and true.
much was we nurture, grow
transforming and so are who we beat by beat and killed dead.
A street!, It's time to hand with walking
and show that, as we live, we announce something new.
I deny my origin, but I say that we
much more than the known, the factors of a start.
English and English with a future that inherently embody
past but can not give for good.
remember our mistakes with bad sound and good wind.
Ira and light, the father of Spain, back to tear the dream.
Again I tell you who you are. Again I think of you, suspended.
I return to fight as important and start with what I start.
as you would not want to justify a leguleyo.
I be a poet and write your first verse.
Spain
mine bout torment myself,
to save myself and save you, love you spelling.
- Gabriel Celaya, Iberian-Cantos
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