I walk in the streets, alleys and squares,
I see and hear all kind of people,
I still feel even a little 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 promised long time ago.
Instead of, perhaps, should I go
back to the sixth day of one holy week,
to ask our Creator if this is the way
He had thought for His people.
Also ask if it would not be a time of forgiveness,
disarming some cherubim’s flaming swords,
still on guard at the Paradise Gate.