30 años de las Malvinas. Aunque cueste trabajo creerlo recuerdo el conflicto. Yo estaba por cumplir ocho años de edad y recuerdo en la tele escenas de barcos y aviones. La fiesta más grande de mi infancia, el 21 de abril de 1982, el día que celebré mis ocho con una piñata del Caballero de la Blanca Luna bajo una típica lluvia cumpleañera (siempre llovía en mi cumpleaños) ingleses y argentinos se desangraban en mares helados. Por ahora no me queda más que compartir con furia ese himno antibélico compuesto por los anarcopacifistas de Crass, la resistencia británica contra la guerra. Dedicada a esa perra maligna llamada Margaret.

HOW DOES IT FEEL?

How does it feel to be the mother of a thousand death?
Young boys rest now, cold graves in cold earth.
How does it feel to be the mother of a thousand death?
Sunken eyes, lost now; empty sockets in futile death.

Your arrogance has gutted these bodies of life,
Your deceit fooled them that it was worth the sacrifice.
Your lies persuaded people to accept the wasted blood,
Your filthy pride cleansed you of the doubt you should have had.
You smile in the face of the death cause you are so proud and vain,
Your inhumanity stops you from realising the pain
That you inflicted, you determines, you created, you ordered -
It was your decision to have those young boys slaughtered.
You never wanted peace or solution,
From the start you lusted after war and destruction.
Your blood-soaked reason ruled out other choices,
Your mockery gagged more moderate voices.
So keen to play your bloody part, so impatient that your war be fought.
Iron Lady with your stone heart so eager that the lesson be taught
That you inflicted, you determines, you created, you ordered -
It was your decision to have those young boys slaughtered.

How does it feel to be the mother of a thousand death?
Young boys rest now, cold graves in cold earth.
How does it feel to be the mother of a thousand death?
Sunken eyes, lost now; empty sockets in futile death.