RAIN AND SALT

By Alberto Arecchi

It rains.

It rains on the parched desert

as in my haywire heart.

Bitter rain, load of salt:

salt tears of peoples

and children who wander lost

in lonely fields.

The Yellow River has become red

for the blood and the earth.

Not enough rain to wash

the cruelty of men.

War and massacres, daily bread

for the brothers.

Every day the Deguello plays

in the land of misery.

When shall our hands

tighten those of our brothers?

The rain will remove the salt tears

and the river will wash

the land of our fathers.

We’ll eat together the fruits of the earth,

armed men, women and children:

we’ll share the same bread

and all together we’ll drink

the lifeblood of our land.

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