El bastón del diablo [English translation]

Beneath the light of an alleyway

the voice of an old man can be heard,

he tells the story of a man

who fought for his freedom.

With his hoarse and meek voice

he told the story of an old man

who dominated over all men,

sitting down from his armchair.

With a staff in his hand,

the dictator proclaimed his law,

but one day a man

rebelled against his power.

Ruling through fear,

the dictator killed the man's family,

possessed by hate,

he swore to kill him.

Where are those

who suffer where they stand,

immersed in fear that pain inspires,

forsaken from God's hand?

Where are those

who suffer where they stand,

immersed in a world of wickedness and death,

trying to escape the power of the old man.

The night is ending

and the story comes to an end,

the young man has taken his revenge

and the old man had had to flee.

No more words remain

and the old man's tale ended,

only one question remained,

and it's one that I ask myself:

Where are those

who suffer where they stand,

immersed in fear that pain inspires,

forsaken from God's hand?

Where are those

who suffer where they stand,

immersed in a world of wickedness and death,

trying to escape the power of the old man.

Where are those

who suffer where they stand,

immersed in fear that pain inspires,

forsaken from God's hand?