In the eyes of a rebel there’s not just a flame Kindled by anger, among scorn and disapproval. Like the sun among the clouds Sometimes a fast parade of laughing ghosts Appears in those eyes, Just like the games the children play in the courtyards In those clearest evenings so fondly remembered.
Eyes looking at you, eager to shake and stir Convinced that the world wants nothing but joy and revolt. Eyes that are certain that giving in is always the worst among all crimes. Bright eyes filled with tears, eyes of he who went away leaving his love behind Who knows why?
In the eyes of a rebel there’s a passing of shadows Just like second thoughts that surprise and confuse him; Almost like the fear of not bearing the impact Of that tremendous gift the stars gave him. In those eyes, as I said, there’s an old stubbornness Which is the mute coachman of a whole Life's choice.
Life that is born hazarded, with an ace of cups, the death: The minimum promised punishment for those who go so far and beyond, The eternal sentence that is used for the unforgivable guilt Of having that widespread infection known as temptation to fly and be free
Although it's quite unusual, sometimes he manages to undermine the power, Then everybody is ready to kiss the hands that were trampled yesterday, Gates of palaces and beautiful ladies' thighs are opened But only when the victory seems a matter of hours. And in all civil wars, in all clashes down in cities' streets Ideologies collide and only one race rises: The race made by those deluded, romantic and naive fools who are cut out for the coffin or jail Over the centuries always the same, engine of an evolution That will deny them in the end...