Three years ago, the November wind blew you away. That night, even without accepting the news, I understood that there are men who do not die, there are men who multiply, who adhere to millions and begin to be called people.
One question was enough to find you: Where is Fidel? Minutes later, I could see you in the teacher who educates with love, in the doctor who saves you from exhaustion, in the farmer who sows the future, in the verse of an unnamed poet, in the drawing of a primary schoolboy.
The question came back to me. Where is Fidel? – You would immediately appear everywhere, in the prey of a humble sportsman, in the song of Carilda, in the music of Saborí, in the heart of the grateful, in the just struggles of the oppressed peoples of America, in the history that acquit
Yes, it is true, there are men who do not leave; there are those who stay forever, those who lead by their example, those who educate with their legacy, those who trace the course of victory, and those who pride us and those who even after invisibles, they know how to raise their arms and defend their flag without hesitation.
That November night I accepted your move, but never your death. Now you live in 11 million lives, now I find you at every step, you are present and future, you are an answer and you don’t ask, you are Cuba, Fidel, you are Cuba.