Feb. 24, 2018, 5:59 a.m.
Los escuadrones de la muerte de Veracruz
Toda la cúpula policial del Estado mexicano ha sido detenida por actuar como un grupo paramilitar que torturó e hizo desaparecer a al menos 15 personas
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Por favor, escuche "LET THERE ONLY BE LOVE". Cuídense mucho.
LET THERE ONLY BE LOVE
No matter who'll eat the fruit of the tree you may grow/ always try hard to sow seeds of love ev'rywhere that you go./
You won't find only love, but also hate along the road/ but what matters is the love in your heart you hold./
(Refrain)
Instead of bullets may ev'ry gun shoot flowers and fun./ Instead of hate let there only be love for ev'ry one./ May all people share riches before life is done./
Now is the only thing real as once a man said/ 'cos before later comes anyone may be dead./
So, outta your heart make an airfield, oh, where only solidarity lands/ and for evil deeds try hard to make amends./
(Refrain)
Let there not be any more wars and no room too for greed, fear and hunger./ May man drop chocolate bars and not shells from the bomber./
(Refrain)
LET THERE ONLY BE LOVE
No matter who'll eat the fruit of the tree you may grow/ always try hard to sow seeds of love ev'rywhere that you go./
You won't find only love, but also hate along the road/ but what matters is the love in your heart you hold./
(Refrain)
Instead of bullets may ev'ry gun shoot flowers and fun./ Instead of hate let there only be love for ev'ry one./ May all people share riches before life is done./
Now is the only thing real as once a man said/ 'cos before later comes anyone may be dead./
So, outta your heart make an airfield, oh, where only solidarity lands/ and for evil deeds try hard to make amends./
(Refrain)
Let there not be any more wars and no room too for greed, fear and hunger./ May man drop chocolate bars and not shells from the bomber./
(Refrain)
Allá por Ancillo de Argoños (Cantabria) cerca del molino Jado cogiendo caracolas amaneciendo ….
Erraba por la orilla de la ría desierta,
interpretando el ritmo de la onda bulliciosa.
Las brisas matinales aromaban el molino,
el alba despeinaba su cabellera al viento.
Y, al rumor apagado de la ronca sonata,
sentí una sangre nueva circular por mis venas,
sangre bermeja digna de un corazón pirata,
o de un moderno Ulises, pescador de sirenas.
Erraba por la orilla de la ría desierta,
interpretando el ritmo de la onda bulliciosa.
Las brisas matinales aromaban el molino,
el alba despeinaba su cabellera al viento.
Y, al rumor apagado de la ronca sonata,
sentí una sangre nueva circular por mis venas,
sangre bermeja digna de un corazón pirata,
o de un moderno Ulises, pescador de sirenas.
