Una canción necesaria [o Balada para que no se pierda un hombre] [English translation]

Your flesh stuck to the bone went lost in the ground

The tear, the poem and the memory

are working over the fire, the song of your death,

with golden machine guns from you.

And here, every night, they search in your books

the fair purpose of every action,

and your memory is open to anyone who is reborn,

but there's always someone who will make you an altar.

And turn your training figure into a legend,

and make the dream of reaching you impossible,

and learn by memory some of your phrases,

to say: "I'll become like him", without knowing you.

And spread it without shyness, dreams, love or faith.

And make your words lose the sense of respect.

This way the man who is born covered with your flowers.

Some poet said, and it would be the fairest:

From now on our duty is to keep you from being God.