I walk in the streets, alleys and squares,
I see and hear all kind of people.
I still feel even a bit of their souls.
Whites, blacks and yellows,
adults, children and the elderly,
they are my fellow ones, comrades
on the biggest walk, in route
to the admirable new world,
the land once promised, so long ago.
Instead, perhaps should I go
back to that sixth day of one holy week,
to ask our Creator if this is the way
He had thought for His people.
Also, if the time for forgiveness has not come,
disarming some cherubim’s flaming swords,
still on guard at the Paradise Gate.