Pobrecito, te han robado.
They ripped out your heart,
Burnt down your village,
Raped your wife.
Where are the children? Did they survive?
I’ll carry you in my memory, Uncle Gypsy…
Pa’ que no olvidemos lo que ha sido.
We don’t want to doom repetition.
You dear old man,
With your twinkling ebony eyes,
Lines in your face to tell a story and
That welcoming smile…
You loved us and they killed you for your happiness.
Sweet Uncle Gypsy…there is nothing left to fear.
You didn’t die in vain. We’ll tell your story.
Yes, the children survived.