The Gold by Alfonso Guillén Zelaya
The communion of the natives killed the men,
divided the land, perverted love,
the word of Christ cannot live,
it could only live when the world was a child.
Today, coins are minted to alleviate hunger,
in the past, not even innocent bartering existed,
nor stone fences nor wire nets,
and fruit was free across all fields.
The waters, the hunt, the plains were free;
and since there were no owners, there were never thieves,
life was filled with peace, love, and sweetness;
people were good, like blessings.
No eyelid was ever lifted to witness misery,
nor did children cry from cold in the snow;
the world was, at that time, the generous artery
that granted man the grace of desired things.
Oh, the sunsets of ancient freshness,
wrapped in the soul of distant rituals,
when everyone would descend to the nearby spring
to drink water in the cup of their hands!
Oh, sun of those centuries that only had dawn,
not to send legions of workers to the furrow,
but to give the kindness of your hours,
hope to life in fields and paths!
Thus, in dawns and evenings, through hills and mountains,
roads and plains, in a brotherhood of sheep,
your free spirit expanded horizons
under the joyful sky, blissful old people.
What a beautiful morality, this first morality
of living for all and being one with all!
Men did not die in border struggles
because the land had no fences.
But, Lord of the good, your gifts are gone:
we are condemned to live without fortune,
all of us who have made our own garments
with gold from the stars and silver from the moon!
