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'Sometimes, the rains only wet' -he thought-
The hero of the fort in those years.
Coming out of the grave and having no vocation
to any yoke that was not of pipe.
Anxious melodies he hummed;
songs of sabers without rivet.
His actions in life raised
when he was able to eat the daughter,
of the ' honorable senator.
A girl wrapped up in her dad's business,
a cheap and subtle but party girl
they met working at Casanova:
She was selling and he was making wallets
with open arms to this thief,
the party gladly received him:
'Secretary of pasta' in the week,
he became a mule of all the powerful.
Fantasy and Reality ,
this story doesn't care.
The business was growing for everyone,
for everyone except those who wait
for those who sweat with impatience,
the 'without shoes' who do not go to this 'party'.
Kings and Santa Claus do not exist
and only people help people.
There is no more deluded person than the deluded
that he still waits for the hand,
be that of the one who governs him.