Una Fuente - Enrique Morente

La cebolla es escarcha

Cerrada y pobre

Escarcha de tus días

Y de mis noches

Hambre y cebolla

Hielo negro y escarcha

Grande y redonda

En la cuna del hambre

Mi niño estaba

Con sangre de cebolla

Se amamantaba

Pero tu sangre

Escarchada de azúcar

Cebolla y hambre

Una mujer morena

Resuelta en luna

Se derrama hilo a hilo

Sobre la cuna

Ríete, niño

Que te traigo la luna

Cuando es preciso

Tu risa me hace libre

Me pone alas

Soledades me quita

Cárcel me arranca

Boca que vuela

Corazón que en tus labios

Relampaguea

Desperté de ser niño:

Nunca despiertes

Triste llevo la boca:

Ríete siempre

No te derrumbes

No sepas lo que pasa ni

Lo que ocurre

onion is frost

closed and poor

Frost of your days

and of my nights

hunger and onion

black ice and frost

big and round

In the cradle of hunger

my boy was

With onion blood

he breastfed

but your blood

Frosted with sugar

onion and hunger

a brunette woman

resolved in moon

It spills thread by thread

about the crib

laugh child

I bring you the moon

when it is necessary

your laugh makes me free

gives me wings

loneliness takes away from me

Jail rips me off

mouth that flies

Heart that on your lips

flashes

I woke up from being a child:

never wake up

Sad I carry my mouth:

always laugh

Do not fall apart

You don't know what's going on

What happens