Che Guevara


CHE GUEVARA

San Martin like pure hand
A familiar Marti lying there,
As if the plant came Plata
With the Cauto to collect water and tenderness.

So Guevara, the gaucho hard voice,
I offer his guerrilla Fidel blood,
And his broad hand was more companion
When it was our darkest night.

Huyo death. Your impure shadow,
Of the Switchblade, from the venom of the beast,
Only the memory remains Barbaro.
Only the memory remains Barbaro.

Made of two A whole soul shines,
San Martin like pure hand
A familiar Marti lying there.