Florida Street, the tunnel of rotting flowers.
And the poor multitude mother ran out crying
between lamps without ribbons. Crying
naked, forever, alone. Shadow
male black tie
suffered by decree
spiteful and the organ State Radio
God did take a month or two.
Buenos Aires fog and silence.
El Barrio Norte after the lattice
instructing Paris sunshine.
The endless queue to see
and cursing in case
those black heads will not
a blessed one either. Flores
bad for Cleopatra.
greasers And with the heart riven, cracked
seriously. Orphans. Silence.
Winter Street where nobody preaches
Leader, Democracy, The Reason.
and Antonio Tormo silent "let us love."
A gale of compulsory mourning.
Rosettes with black clots.
Century death never saw more death.
Poor things rubies, emeralds, mink
offered up by the people,
gold sandals, silks viceregal
empty, shoved it on the night.
And the hatred between parentheses, brooding revenge
basements and prod.
And love and pain were indeed
groaning on the edge of the sidewalk. Tears
rinsed with rags,
Madrecita for the Homeless.
Silence, tango until he died.
Order up and tears down.
In his youth. We are nothing.
We are nothing more than a great punishment.
Republic was painted in black as you
makeup and muddy.
In popular shrines, holy. Hyena
ice for gorillas
but yes, solísima death.
And the people who cried
forever without providing your atrocious pilgrimage.
With my eyes I saw, I sold
this legend, or was stolen. Days
July 52
What matter where was I?
II
not rest in peace, raises his arms
not the day of renunciation
but for women to get together
with your flag redemptive
washed powder, raising .
I do not know who you were, but I played.
Crooked Creek Plaza de Mayo,
women got involved in the history
prep, snatching the microphone,
revenge and distributing alms. Gross
like a diamond in a pigsty
Who going to shovel the last stone?
Maybe one day we come together to invoke
your extraordinary courage.
All the contreras, the idolaters,
incessant mothers, the harlots,
that loved you, that you cursed,
which
obedient children throw away the war, all
the world now fraternize
rebelling against annihilation.
When the vultures will be left alone
and run from the prints and outrage
begin to know who you were.
With whip and submissive, passive and compassionate
only queen we had, crazy
that seized power from the soldiers.
When the areas together and nuns
and raped in the tele
and agree that silent but snatched
release non shipwrecked on
mirrors or swim to executives.
When we
scandal and justice will last time
clean your arrogance and your martyrdom, sister.
guts, as you had,
fanatical, loyal,
rampant in the candor of beneficence
but only one had the luxury
being crowned by submerged.
guts to make the world anew.
have enough guts to scream
while we gag with guns.
And the poor multitude mother ran out crying
between lamps without ribbons. Crying
naked, forever, alone. Shadow
male black tie
suffered by decree
spiteful and the organ State Radio
God did take a month or two.
Buenos Aires fog and silence.
El Barrio Norte after the lattice
instructing Paris sunshine.
The endless queue to see
and cursing in case
those black heads will not
a blessed one either. Flores
bad for Cleopatra.
greasers And with the heart riven, cracked
seriously. Orphans. Silence.
Winter Street where nobody preaches
Leader, Democracy, The Reason.
and Antonio Tormo silent "let us love."
A gale of compulsory mourning.
Rosettes with black clots.
Century death never saw more death.
Poor things rubies, emeralds, mink
offered up by the people,
gold sandals, silks viceregal
empty, shoved it on the night.
And the hatred between parentheses, brooding revenge
basements and prod.
And love and pain were indeed
groaning on the edge of the sidewalk. Tears
rinsed with rags,
Madrecita for the Homeless.
Silence, tango until he died.
Order up and tears down.
In his youth. We are nothing.
We are nothing more than a great punishment.
Republic was painted in black as you
makeup and muddy.
In popular shrines, holy. Hyena
ice for gorillas
but yes, solísima death.
And the people who cried
forever without providing your atrocious pilgrimage.
With my eyes I saw, I sold
this legend, or was stolen. Days
July 52
What matter where was I?
II
not rest in peace, raises his arms
not the day of renunciation
but for women to get together
with your flag redemptive
washed powder, raising .
I do not know who you were, but I played.
Crooked Creek Plaza de Mayo,
women got involved in the history
prep, snatching the microphone,
revenge and distributing alms. Gross
like a diamond in a pigsty
Who going to shovel the last stone?
Maybe one day we come together to invoke
your extraordinary courage.
All the contreras, the idolaters,
incessant mothers, the harlots,
that loved you, that you cursed,
which
obedient children throw away the war, all
the world now fraternize
rebelling against annihilation.
When the vultures will be left alone
and run from the prints and outrage
begin to know who you were.
With whip and submissive, passive and compassionate
only queen we had, crazy
that seized power from the soldiers.
When the areas together and nuns
and raped in the tele
and agree that silent but snatched
release non shipwrecked on
mirrors or swim to executives.
When we
scandal and justice will last time
clean your arrogance and your martyrdom, sister.
guts, as you had,
fanatical, loyal,
rampant in the candor of beneficence
but only one had the luxury
being crowned by submerged.
guts to make the world anew.
have enough guts to scream
while we gag with guns.
María Elena Walsh
www.pelotadetrapo.org.ar
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