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I
see the beggars, Where
is justice? Peons
pushed aside, Thrown
away, Their
sin? They
were born In
a hovel, Not
a palace. They
are nothing. I
am nothing. What
can I do? I
cannot speak, I
have no voice. I
have no power, no wealth, Only
desire, Dear
God, What
can I do? I
turn and behold a youth, Impetuous,
fiery, strong. His
eyes see the ranchero, The
peon, the mozo, the vaquero, Trampled
by the heel of a dictator. His
heart burns with passion, His
soul flames with indignation, His
desire, my desire are one. Glory?
Honor? Fame? No!
My
youth dons a secret, Becomes
an enigma, A
puzzle for tyrants To
solve, to cipher, To
curse. I
am silent, But
in my heart I sing I
am squire To
my knight of justice.
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