That year may lasted twelve months
you and I were already born
and a very serious man was dying of displeasure.
In the first page of the ABC, 1
the carnations were biting the judges,
Paris was a neighbourhood with accordion,
Marx forbid his children
to be late
to the sweet bonfire of insurrection,
The poetry went out to the streets,
we recognized our faces,
we knew everything was possible
in 1968.
Jean Paul Sartre and Dylan were doing a duet
Lenin and Rimbaud were ringing around the rosies,
the clocks were striking 40ºC of fever,
at Renault they were talking about sex,
two and two never again sumed four,
even De Gaulle had lovesickness,
in the middle of Prage poppies were sprouting
like a red challenge to the grey concrete,
The poetry went out to the streets,
we recognized our faces,
we knew everything was possible
in 1968.
But we couldn't reinvent history,
lady death was chewing gum in Vietnam,
the tanks were stepping over the Prague flowrs,
in Mexico lindo they were shooting to kill
while the Che was digging his grave in Bolivia
Massiel was singing in Eurovision
and my father was getting on time to work
with the white collar and the brown suit.
If now I find that friend
I read in the bottom of his eyes
that now went dry the flowers
of 1968.
The pictures went on strike at the museums,
Paris was red, San Francisco was blue,
a wanderer was chosen mayor
and the Sorbonne was at Kathmandu,
Survive imbecile! It's rock or death
drink coca cola, sing this song
that spring will last too little
that tomorrow is monday and last night it rained.
If now I find that friend
I read in the bottom of his eyes
that now went dry the flowers
of 1968.
1. Spanish newspaper