Deceptive stagings, disguised patriotism, false promises, threats... What insolence, my land! They have tried everything to divide us. And you - firm, self-respectful, beautiful and determined – persevere immune to such melodramatic pantomimes.
Venerable, homeland; this is your position in the face of a den of bosses and paid chameleons, who from their obsolete factory of pretexts insist on playing Zanjón and Fernandina, ignoring that another February 24 is at hand - it always is - and that our algorithms are different: Baire and La Confianza unite and multiply as Girón, Baraguá and Cinco Palmas did.
But they insist, sick with hatred and spite. The financiers are obsessed with the impossible: erasing us from the map and from the world’s memory; while the lackeys cannot control their desperate need to slit a vein for their sponsors, in exchange for fame, comfort and money.
They know that we prefer to live in austerity, clinging to the construction of our work, despite the hurricane winds from the North, with a foundation of love, sweat, and even pain. To live without it would be to renounce freedom, and we are not willing to do so. "He who loves assumes its pains, and is not detained by the sun or its opposite."
They think we are weak, they attack, and again they fail. They try another formula, one more "respectful" of our symbols, but they profane them. They attempt to sell vulgarity as art, to disguise their vendetta with dignity, in a desperate refrain.
They want to strip music of its values, to use it against us. And in this sordid attempt they dare to invoke our loyal, cultured José Julián, so exalted, so Cuban and so sensitive, so alien to offenses and rudeness, so committed to unity and the necessary war for the independence of Cuba. February 24 is at hand, lest we forget.
