Translation of the song lyrics Agustín Rueda - Sin Dios

Agustín Rueda (original)

Corren los años setenta
Años preñados de roja ilusión
Se lucha en las calles, barrios y fábricas
Y hasta en la cárcel se han organizado
Retumba un grito de amnistía
Los presos se movilizan
Huelgas, plantes, motines
Y fugas, amargan al carcelero
En Carabanchel han descubierto
Un túnel cavado con negro valor
Se agita el sistema y quiere venganza
La cárcel exige escarmiento de sangre
Los carceleros quieren los nombres
Los nombres de hombres que anhelan vivir
Preparan los palos y los grilletes
La danza de muerte ya ha comenzado
Han matado a Agustín Rueda
Su delito no claudicar
No denunciar a sus compañeros
Le ha costado su vida
Ya han dado la orden
Comienza el tormento
Golpean las bestias a los compañeros
El médico ayuda y el resto no escucha
Cómo se quiebran los frágiles huesos
Son horas de golpes, de odio de insultos
Son horas de vil cobarde venganza
Los palos buscando al revolucionario
La muerte encuentra al que no se doblega
Nunca hubo justicia
Contra los responsables
La democracia nacía
Con las manos manchadas de sangre
Han matado a Agustín Rueda
Su delito no claudicar
No denunciar a sus compañeros
Le ha costado su vida
No confiemos en su justicia

Agustín Rueda (translation)

It's the seventies
Years pregnant with red illusion
Fighting in the streets, neighborhoods and factories
And even in prison they have organized
resounds a cry of amnesty
Prisoners mobilize
Strikes, plantings, riots
And leaks, they embitter the jailer
In Carabanchel they have discovered
A tunnel dug with black courage
The system is shaken and wants revenge
Prison demands blood punishment
The jailers want the names
The names of men who long to live
They prepare the sticks and the shackles
The dance of death has already begun
They have killed Agustín Rueda
His crime of him not giving up
Do not report your colleagues
It has cost him his life
They have already given the order
the torment begins
The beasts beat the companions
The doctor helps and the rest do not listen
How brittle bones break
These are hours of blows, of hate, of insults
They are hours of vile cowardly revenge
The sticks looking for the revolutionary
Death finds the one who does not bow
there was never justice
against those responsible
democracy was born
With hands stained with blood
They have killed Agustín Rueda
His crime of him not giving up
Do not report your colleagues
It has cost him his life
Let's not trust their justice