ANVIL AND CUT

 

TRANSITION OF FORGIVENESS AND COMPASSION

My life is a perpetual misery

I intone the confiteor

It's reut mich

I sinful

I am a sinner

I kiss the red and yellow

Trampled and unmarried

Spit on by thugs and rascals

But her folds embrace me

They will be my stole and my shroud

the day of departure

Meanwhile I listen

the fake news

Radio Macuto

The same as

The cheesy spiches of the aunts in the easy chair

The biped's harangues

Big-headed lout and short ideas

His saharianas are left fishing

They don't cover his ass

And so is my country

Bullarengue in the air

I try to get away from me

I banished it from my thoughts

I sing to life the truth the beauty

I was a man of chop and anvil

industrious goldsmith craftsman scribe

Poet and artist journalist

righting wrongs

in perpetual struggle

Against the blades of windmills

A quixote, in short

They shimmer over my body

old stabs

I lick my wounds river ahead

from the warm waters

Guadarrama

I contemplate the peaks of Carpet

I fell letterwounded

I got up

And I will continue the march

Until the Supreme Artificer

Notify your call

come closer deacon

diakon prestupiti

Eternal glory to those who died

For our country