OLVIDO.

If I ever thought about what I once was, I would not even have the strength to live... But I know one must forget, and I forget without protest. In the dark caravan of sorrow of the men who lost their homes, without blasphemy, without resentment, I go alone with my song.

No one asks what I was in the past, whether I was rich, whether I was honest, whether there were silks in my cradle. No one cares who I am, where I come from, and if someone approaches me, they ask how much I have... They look at the rags that betray my poverty today, and in those rags people read what I am worth and who I am... But it does not matter; for me, who lived through it, I know everything I have been, what I will never be again...

That is why my mouth will not reveal the secret of a past I lost... I was a man of standing; I believe in a God who sometimes denies me bread... And in the dark caravan of sorrow of the men who lost their homes, without blasphemy, without resentment, I go alone with my song.