Mature opinions, arrogant opinions,
About our country.
Mornings and afternoons talking
About our country.
I would also like to
Have such securities
But how can I ?
My calculations don’t seem to add up.
They are lucky
Those from anywhere!
They fly over all frontiers.
Nobody told me
How difficult it is to be Basque,
That I should rather choose to be
A citizen of the world.
I would like to sing
Sweet songs
The sun
For that who is in the shade
Take care of what you love
They tell me so:
What are you doing singing about love?
Coexistence is risking
And you keep singing small verses.
I would like to sing
Sweet songs
The sun
For that who is in the shade
Take care of what you love
Take care of what you hate
Take care...…

I have walked
One thousand leagues on my way.
One thousand leagues on my way and
Looking for a house.
Be it in daylight,
Be it in nightime,
I was there looking for it.
In the blaze of the sun
Or under the stars,
I was looking
For your house.
I made my way, my mind was captive,
I didn’t want to know
What my aim was, what I was scared of,
Why do I need to go?
Be it in daylight,
Be it…
This open door is familiar to me
A sweet voice is calling me from your window, calling me
I have walked
One thousand leagues on my way.

You are quiet, where is your friendly voice?
Your silence talks to me loud today
Like in real fairy tales
The truth does not speak so loud
Even in science books
So obvious, so transparent, your truth.
Does the world speak instead of you?
I have to understand even what is not said, then?
To undress the secret leaf by leaf,
Mix me into a lie,
Because that truth is not nice.
Because your truth is not worth listening to.
You will leave me soon,
Even the wind brings me that suspicion.
I only have with me
your unsaid reason.
Some light rays are trying
To come into your house desperately.
Everything will be forgotten soon
Maybe in a beautiful Easter morning
Or later
With the eve of a new celebration.
The last light rays are trying to
Come into your house desperately.

I set off from far away,
I left willing to see her.
Towards that who had a ring around her ankle,
Tattoos of clay, who was in my mind.
There, far away, the land is really red.
There the sun lay down late.
Then, at night, we went into thousands of cantons,
Thus we lived loving each other.
Once, we were in the rainy season,
Seven days, seven nights,without clearing out.
There appeared a river replacing the creek,
Nothing remained the same as before.
Tender words were silenced
The the turbid water washed along our words.
If you see her, say hi to her for me
Because she was my beautiful dear.

April 20th
The little spring song arrived today
The song brings with it
A single voice, a voice with it,
A hidden voice, oh, oh, oh,
I want to hear your message now.
The same voice told me:
This is the cruelest month.
It takes away the leaves fallen in winter
Showing what was kept below.
A hidden voice, oh, oh, oh,
Inner voice, I should have believed everything you said.
Wake up
Wake that sleepy mind up
Check if it’s already daylight
My aim was mistaken!
The voice was right:
That spring rain has brought the Saint Jose flower
To the sleepy land.
Hidden voice, oh, oh, oh
If I had heard you before.
Wake up
Wake that sleepy mind up
Check if it’s already daylight.

Conpanions from my country and time,
As we are participants of the way in which we utter the world,
I would like to find the beautiful sense
Of our words together with you
Who knows whether we have climbed up the wrong stair up to this point
If we are aware of our occupied land
Our rough ancestors, our marginalised language
It seems that we don’t have
Any country, any age, any speech, any song
Who knows who is to blame
Maybe we are to blame, and without going further away
We should go against ourselves
We are wider than our loneliness and there’s no small window
Let’s widen the window further than the wall
Let’s sing a lullaby!
The empty bottles in the attic, to the garbage
And the decorative flowers, and moons,
And mirrors, and eyes, and dreams, and stars, and hearts
And the rhymes like amour and toujours to the garbage
Let’s shake off the dust until we sneeze
Let’s put up our mind’s clumsy flag
On every hill
A song does not change anything
A song does not turn anybody into a fanatic
Let’s sing a lullaby to our fatherland
But let’s work until we find the sounds that will fit
Our country and our age
Sounds that can be mixed with the world, the century, the people
It is not anything huge to make music
It is just the empty play of re-making sound
To increase the way of spinning a thought
Mostly an imperfect work
Let’s say that it is an event
As human and respectful as preparig lemonade
Let’s sing a lullaby to the empty cradle of our country.

Is that you who only talks to himself ?
Or that who has left out his old aims
In order to live comfortably?
That who is trying to find a balance
With his little pacts?
Is that you now, that guy you didn’t want to be formerly?
Wanting to be in the know of the good and the bad
You ended up being a prisoner of the good and the bad.
Not completed human being , a gold prospector,
Always wanting to know what time it is.
They laugh at you, even your neighbours,
Poor guy!
There’s a celebration, hang the little flag
From your balcony
Your pocket is full of crumbs from
Your second breakfast.
Wanting to be in the know of the good and the bad
You ended up being a prisoner of the good and the bad.

Among all the things
What I most like are used things.
Defective, blunt enough,
Those who have become so humble friends.
In those matters of usefulness
The things that have been overcome.
Normal things, noble things,
Used things are what I most like
And also words
Words too
Words that many people have said
And also words
Words too
Although just a few people utter them
Things used for anything
They accomplish their task and I see them as beautiful
Used things
Whose humble beauty has disappeared with the time
And also words
Words too...
These things are my friends
Like the sounds of words
I get to know them
Blessed things! Blessed words!
Because used things are more esteemed
The more you use them.
As with today´s world
They keep us more bound with what is coming.
And also words
Words too...
These things are my friends…
Among all the things what I most like...

Let’s think that
The rain is pleasant
Tolling on the car.
Let’s think
That the light of a lighthouse crosses
The fog in the darkness.
It is difficult to see even with that light,
It is difficult for the fog to rise quickly.
It is possible to hurt
Deeply each other
As you have learned today.
Those kinds of thoughts,
TheRain, the light, the fog,
As if there weren’t anything else in the world.
It is difficult to see even with that light,
It is difficult for the fog to rise quickly.
Some things cannot end happily,
You know that quite well now.
Today the rain is with you
And the light that appears out of the fog.
Although it is difficult to see with that light,
Although it is difficult for the fog to rise quickly.

This is a wonderful night
The night ambience couldn’t be better.
Pick up the calendar from the wall in the pub
To mark today’s day.
Paint in red this new date –our great saint-
“Saint Nothing Isimpossible”.
Holding each other from our shoulders,
Already in the seventh heaven.
Across the desert
It feels too long to me,
We only have salt water there
Old friends, great friends,
Let’s have fun.
Throw the daily things into the fire
Put aside your old photographs.
The destroyed Bagdad is far away today
Even Guantanamo who knows where.
We are going to celebrate a nice party
As if the world were fixed
He has pity on us –our grat saint-
“Saint Nothing Isimpossible”.
The pub door opened,
Here you have the light from the street,
The boundary stone of the desert.
Old friends, great friends,
See you tomorrow! Sleep good!

Friends without a name
Gave so much
For lo ve.
They had no profits
And they have thrown out
so many things.
The world or oneself, reason or want, which one becomes transformed?
Do they feel guilty or innocent at the judgement every night?
I would like to
Look into their lives
Through the crack of the years.
Their silent lives
Wandering friend’s
The only life.
The world or oneself, …
Let’s go, then.
Let’s caress
The mahogany hands
Under the palm tree
Beyond a square metre
Of sadness...