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The Song of the Child
I am the cream of the crop, the light of thought.
The essence of a life that dreams of something better:
I am the absolute Truth, I summarize innocence,
And I am, to the men of clear intelligence,
A subject to study, a garden in bloom.
I am the solid base of a world to come:
Forged by titans of the ideal thought.
For many are the heroes that in every age
Said and wrote the thousand truths
That serve the people of the stellar North.
I carry in my tiny, minute arteries,
A little blood of the good Jesus,
A little of Giordano, Ferre and Galileo,
A little of Zacatustra, of Apollo and Prometheus,
Of Tolstoy, Bakunin, Danton and Reclus.
I am all hope... The parents, the teachers,
Repeat tirelessly: "Watch over the children!"
Because they know that in us lies the innovative,
Crystal clear fountain that overruns, dreaming.
The prejudice of yesterday, past.
I am the future: and I am the present
Another glorious link to Humanity.
And I increase the pages of its incomplete History,
which entails mourning and weeping, as well as glory,
Misery and greatness, over and over again.
If I am the lush spring in the present,
I am also an interrogator for what's to come,
Because I may embody Mussolini's creed.
Or courage from the libertarian Spartacus
And make out of humans a very joyful world.
But I doubt my Age will cling to recession:
Evident is the desire of light and equity
That embodies every human that thinks and reasons,
And it is expected in holiness that what is preached
Brings ripened fruit to Humanity.