If I get up early
Fresh and cured
Clear and happy
And I tell you I'm going to the forest
To relieve myself of you
Know that I have, inside, a treasure
That's with me to the root
If then I come back laden
With many flowers, lots of colors
And I put them in your laughter
In your tenderness, in your voice
It's that I've wet my shirt in flowers
In order to color its sweat
But if one day I'm late
Don't be impatient, I'll be back later
It will be that the deepest joy
Will have followed the rage that day
Rage; the simple rage of the common folk
Rage, explosive; rage of death
Rage: empire assassin of children
Rage: it's rotted my love
Rage: mother, for God I'm cold
Rage: it's mine, that is mine, only mine
Rage: I drink but I don't get wet
Rage: fear of losing grip
Rage: son shoe of Earth
Rage: gimme or I'll go to war with you
Rage: everything has its moment
Rage: the cry is carried by the wind
Rage: gold over consciousness
Rage: fuck, patience, patience
Rage: is my vocation
If there are days when I return tired
Dirty from time without for love
It's that I come from the world
Not from the forest, not from the sun
In those days, partner
Put on a new soul
For my most beautiful flower