Annotations for "Poem"

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Item	Time	Annotation	Layer
May 26, 1981 - AM	37:34 - 39:11	Aída, we are the same. The days pass, We continue to be at war, De same as Aquino, De same as Modesto Ramírez, My war, your war. The bullets pass, De ones of death and pain are the same. We continue to be at war, That of Ama, of Sanchez, The war that brought Oscar Arnulfo and Chacón, And Córdoba, of Agustín, Farabundo, Comrade, it’s the same one. De one of protests and of funerals, They’re the same ones. Arms and legs and shoulders and feet, They’re the same ones. At a gallop, they’re the same ones. The faces with eyes that throw lances at a gallop, Over the historic güiscoyol of the same souls, They’re the same ones. Except for today there aren’t enough streets, Or parks, Or mountains, For us, The same ones, Loud Pipiles in protest and at a gallop. Working men, Laboring fists, Women who smell of vegetables in the marketplaces. There isn’t any space in this small country for the peasant, Heart of golden grain, We continue at war, Our same unique song is heard everywhere. Peace, peace, and we are the same.	Poetry