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De nuevo quieren manchar
mi tierra con sangre obrera
los que hablan de libertad
y tienen las manos negras.

Los que quieren dividir
a la madre de sus hijos
y quieren reconstruir
la cruz que arrastrara Cristo.

Quieren ocultar la infamia
que legaron desde siglos,
pero el color de asesinos
no borrar?n de su cara.

Ya fueron miles y miles
los que entregaron su sangre
y en caudales generosos
multiplicaron los panes.

Ahora quiero vivir
junto a mi hijo y mi hermano
la primavera que todos
vamos construyendo a diario.

No me asusta la amenaza,
patrones de la miseria,
la estrella de la esperanza
continuar? siendo nuestra.

Vientos del pueblo me llaman,
vientos del pueblo me llevan,
me esparcen el coraz?n 
y me aventan la garganta.

As? cantar? el poeta
mientras el alma me suene
por los caminos del pueblo
desde ahora y para siempre.