In all the big cities of Iberia
The unemployed queue from hunger
From the early hours of the day
Wishing holy water
Asking for water, bread and food
And good job to win again
Another payroll of slaves
Of more quantity.
In these queues they are not
Those Hispanic people with togas, mitres
Crowns and cerquins
Epaulettes, chevrons and sashes
Just that bunch of common people
And of those that come in boats
Wishing to learn and sing
With happy success this beautiful sentence:
“Water, God, and come May”
And how many goods can I procure for them?
So that, at the end of each day
It can be sung
Glory be to the Father
to the Son and to the Holy Spirit
Like at the end of every psalm
It is done and it was done
By Saint Damascus’ ordination.