Sometimes, sometimes,
the singer is right.
It's not only his heart
what comes out of his mouth,
are the echoes that in the air
were left by the farmer,
the woman, the opressed,
is the crying of the newborn,
the echoes of his song.
Sometimes, sometimes,
the singer is right
and searches in some corner
for the key of hope.
And to who listens it calms
whether be the hunger of the body
or the hunger of the pain.
Indoor poet,
asleep spectator,
swimming alone in th river
nothing happens in your life.
Sing cricket, sing
that the day is coming.
Sometimes, sometimes,
the singer is right.
Even if the storm clouds cover
the joy of life
from a day a new day comes
and they can't kill that force
even if they kill the singer.