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They take away the memory
A stain remains in history, a blur
While the rest suffers amnesia
An old man remembers a song
Of that distant battle
/>Where he could have died
In an unwon war
Sometimes he asks me about you
He still believes himself in the trench
Another flag, another color
Solemn in its wind it waves
On the top and in its living room
Sometimes it speaks with ghosts
Whose name it forgot
Defeated, they never returned
Of his inner exile
Not a moment, not a memory
For those who lost, those who built
The tomb, the mausoleum
Of misery, of the butcher
How do you expect to win without them? The battles that they previously lost? , grandfather
The explosions have ended
But when he goes out into the street
Madrid seems bombed
And he reads writings on the walls
Screams against which he fought
And characters with dark faces
Who instilled terror in him
And one day, without realizing it
The old man, with his stories, wasted away
And in the memory of his grandson
Only a trace, a slight blur
Of that distant battle
Where he could die
In an unwon war
Where he fought ³ for you
Where I fought for you