By Verónica Alemán Cruz and Enrique González Díaz (Enro) on September 20, 2025
Photos: Syara Salado Massip / Video: Victor Villaba, correspondents, Resumen Latinoamericano in Cuba
There are voices that do more than just sing: they draw invisible maps, trace emotional routes, and establish territories of memory. In Cuba, this is the case with Silvio Rodríguez. His voice is a compass and a landscape, a testimony and a refuge.
Through his songs, the nation reveals itself not as an extension of land, but as a shared experience, a collective sensibility that is recognized in metaphor, in utopia, in desires, and in hope.
Last night, September 19, the steps of the University of Havana became an altar to socially conscious songs. Thousands of people of all ages gathered to listen to Silvio Rodríguez, the greatest troubadour of his time. The concert, more than a show, was testimony, history, and soul.
Silvio sings for those who have no voice, for those who dream, for those who resist. His trova music has been a refuge in times of reaffirmation, a mirror in times of change, and a beacon in the midst of difficulties.
His verses embody the childhood of a country, the youth of its ideals, and the maturity of its questions.
Each song is an emotional coordinate that allows us to travel through Cuba from the intimate, from the ethical, from the deeply human.
Notable among the attendees were the president of the Republic, Miguel Díaz-Canel Bermúdez, and his partner, Lis Cuesta, who also enjoyed the show from the front row, accompanied by members of the government and figures from the national cultural scene.
“Ala de colibrí” kicked off a concert full of passion, where tenderness became a slogan and poetry a banner. Every gesture, every shared glance, wove a bridge of solidarity with Palestine, as if art could fly over walls and sow hope in the rubble.
each song is a hope
“What I can’t forgive you for is kissing me,” sang young people from the Federation of University Students (FEU) and others who know their lyrics by heart, or those of legendary troubadours such as Noel Nicola, remembered by Silvio, as well as Vicente Feliú. The night, cool and different from the previous rainy days, seemed to accompany the enjoyment. Culture, in Silvio’s singing, emphasizes the power of resistance and creation.
Among the different songs that were heard, “Yolanda” by Pablo Milanés; “Escaramujo,” “Quién fuera,” and “La Era está pariendo un corazón,” to name just a few, most were sung loudly in chorus by all those present.
The music brought us back memories with “Ojalá,” that inexorable theme that has spanned generations as a lament of love and heartbreak, but also as a metaphor for life. Silvio performed it with the sobriety of one who knows the weight of his words.
“Ojalá que la aurora no dé gritos que caigan en mi espalda” (May the dawn not cry out on my back) resonated like a ritual of hope. The audience, in a chorus of significant beauty, turned the song into a space for everyone.
Then came “Quién fuera,” known to many as “Corazón,” an intimate piece where Silvio touches the sensibilities of those who still believe in love as a refuge. The soft melody and tender verses enveloped the historic steps of the university in an atmosphere of warmth.
Another special moment of the evening was “La era está pariendo un corazón” (The era is giving birth to a heart), a song that remains relevant because injustice has not expired. The performance was intense, and the tone almost combative.
“The era is giving birth to a heart / It can’t take it anymore, it’s dying of pain” became a cry shared by students, workers, grandparents, and young people who filled the steps. It was the moment when trova became a fighting spirit.
“Yo me muero como viví” (I die as I lived) was a declaration of principles that needs no embellishment. It was the moment of a night that celebrated consistency, dignity, and fidelity to our ideals.
A guitar, two hours, Silvio’s voice alongside his family and musicians, and a staircase that has witnessed struggles and hopes, once again demonstrated that trova is not nostalgia, but present. That his songs are not relics, but tools. And that as long as there is injustice, there will be poetry in the world to fight it.
Source: Cuba en Resumen