The goals of the beautiful, the songs of the people,
flowers bloom in the birds' erections.
Freedom and love, dream of dreams,
see their breaths flow in the body of the Continents.
Tears, complaints, laughter and hopes,
feelings deep, sharp blades,
carving the bread on the white table,
of the soul that feeds like the dove.
And as it flies in the sky, it speaks to the mind,
be the companion, the myth does not fit,
in life the events, in the fair fight,
see our heart asks for the victory of the century.
Cloud never to see the face of the sun again,
women to give birth in the beauty of the lily,
And men in the fire to fall of love,
may the days no longer have the tinge of ashes.
Let the children play in the bright alana,
and when ever they are thirsty, let them drink from the pitcher,
now and forever of the knowledge that life offers,
and of the Revolution the red star...
The goals of the beautiful, ships of love,
their free sail writes on the mast.
And the sailors first became captains,
of labor chosen in each of its ports.
photo chermitov / https://pixabay.com
